Compos Mentis
by The Sweet Suffering
Summary: Lydia is tired of the normalcy in her life; the nagging parents, the miserable job, the merciless school. That is until Beetlejuice shows up with another deal up his sleeve, one that promises her life will be anything but normal.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer states that I own nothing at all, nothing but the cardboard box I live in and my tomahawk. I certainly don't own Beetlejuice, and if I did, I wouldn't be posting stories here, now would I?

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Compos Mentis

Chapter One

The light filtered through her large window, reflecting off her vanity mirror and stabbed her painfully in the eyes. Groaning about the invasion, Lydia shifted on her bed, trying to find a more comfortable place to sleep, one where the sunlight didn't bother her. In another few minutes however, the loud blaring of her alarm clock shook her out of her remaining sleep and she forfeit her slumber to the morning.

Lydia had found a new job. Unlike her previous bad exploits with the job market, this one paid exceedingly better and didn't interfere with her classes. The only drawback was the cost of her weekends and most of her evenings. Grumbling she threw the covers off her, shivering when the coldness of the morning whisked by and captured her. She never enjoyed mornings, and enjoyed them less since her coffee machine had malfunctioned. It had stopped working not two days before, conveniently during the day of her big exam.

Brushing her teeth, getting dressed in the uniform she grudgingly had to wear, Lydia left her small apartment and locked it with a click of her key. Breakfast didn't sound humanly appetizing at the moment, so she decided to skip it again. She could always catch something to eat during her break.

Lydia continued on with her morbid day, falling in and out of a pattern she had sworn in her youth she would never subject herself to. Her routine was standard. Get up, go to school, come home, study, work, sleep, get up, work, come home, sleep, school… It was all mundane to her and so terribly boring. It was _normal. _A word she despised more than anything. The people around her went about life in a similar fashion, not caring that their lives were being dictated by a horrid pattern of monotony brought about by the social public's design of human existence.

There was laughter, smiles, and cheery conversation wherever she turned. People were _happy _with their utterly predictable, unbiased, lackluster life. She couldn't stand it, and she couldn't stand that people could stand it. She hated her school. Her fellow classmates otherwise ignored her existence, which, granted, she didn't mind one bit, and the teachers were bland and tasteless in her opinion. School lessons were predictable and dry and otherwise unpleasant to even look at. Work was no better, having to deal with whining co-workers and a nagging boss. She hated the man with a passion. From his old suit to his lecherous grin, she despised him with every bone in her body.

Lydia snapped out of what became her ritual rant of her dreary life by the sound of the bus, announcing her stop. Sighing, she stepped out and faced the day, already hating it. The steps up to the Mendota Mental Health Institute were long and tiring. Lydia was certain she needed no prior workout having to go up and down the steps to and from work so often. She stopped at the front doors, staring through the glass at her reflection. Scrubs were the most hideous design she could have ever thought of, always so bright and vibrant, baggy and unforgiving to a woman's figure. Hers happened to be the atrocious cacophony of color, somewhere in the mix of lime and puke green. Grumbling she opened the door, letting the cold air conditioning from inside waft at her uncomfortably. They always had the air on, even in winter.

No one who shared her shifts ever said more than two words to her, and always got extremely silent whenever she entered a room that was seconds before buzzing with conversation. She ignored them, pretended that she didn't notice, but if they stared at her for too long, made sure to fix them with the iciest glare she could ever manage. Years being a social outcast let her perfect the art of the glower.

There was always that one person however, who despite clear warnings, never understood how to take hints and signs. This person of course, had scored one too many points in Lydia's shit list. Kea Walker, age twenty seven, dark sandy hair, brown eyes, fairly dark skinned and a five o'clock shadow that was ever present. He followed her around, watched her in between shifts and always stared when they shared the same units to clean. Lydia had caught him many times in the act, but the older man never understood the basic meaning behind "fuck off."

Lydia would be lying if she said the man did not creep her out on more than one occasion. At one point she had almost caught him following her into the women's bathroom. Her manager didn't say a thing when she complained, since he had never antagonized her or came right out and threatened her in anyway. So Lydia went to continually ignoring him, hoping he would go away. With just her luck, today she shared her shift with him; she realized looking over the week calendar posted in the lounge. Looking across the lounge she met with his unblinking brown eyes, smiling at her in a way that let her know he was more than aware of their situation. Growling in her throat, she left the area, knowing without looking that her unwanted partner would soon be behind her.

'_Room 309'_

Oh, so she had the "Vacationers" rooms today. The Vacationers are what they referred to as the people who check in for a few weeks to help clear their "problems". These were mainly saved for the rich and even the celebrities who came under fake names, wanting to save face. What big time superstar would want it to be leaked that they spent three weeks in a crazy hospital chugging down pills like Pez candies? It sickened her to think that these were the people the general public idolized. She lost count of how many stars she had seen walk in paler than she, shaking, drunk, pumped with drugs, whining and sobbing there pretty little plastic faces off. What did the public find so fascinating about these people? They were demoralizing, sickening, wastes of flesh. If Lydia had it her way, she would have ended their pitiful existences. They didn't deserve people looking up to them. They were nothing but shallow, greedy, materialistic little ants, and she for one wanted nothing to do with them.

Lydia had taken the steps to the third floor, avoiding the elevator. This she did on two accounts. One; to avoid having to share the small space with Kea, and two; avoiding the nurses. To Lydia, the nurses were almost as bad as the patients. There have been a few painful instances, one where she had to share an elevator ride with two nurses caring for a shaking patient. The man was thin, looked almost brittle even, and kept muttering things under his breath, eyes shaking, looking about the small closed in space with a gaze in his eyes that made Lydia shiver. The nurses ignored his strange behavior, and continued to casually exchange words, giggling like school girls. They were used to the patients' strange behaviors, and that is what made Lydia unnerved.

As the door opened to the third floor, she was immediately assaulted with the stench of disinfectant and plastic gloves and the faint smell of baby lotion, or power; wipes used commonly in hospitals. Taking a deep breath Lydia walked farther into the hallway, counting down the doors by the brass numbers above them.

'_301_…_303…305…307…'_

'309'

She stopped in front of the door and tensed her body. The door was already open, and standing there, motionlessly still and staring at her, was Kea. His unnaturally big eyes stared at her, that frightening grin on his face leered at her. Uncertainly, Lydia walked into the room, noticing the heavy amount of supplies resting by the far west wall; Kea had brought them up no doubt.

Refusing to speak, or even make eye contact with Kea, Lydia went to gather a rag and a bottle, walking off into a section of the room to start her job. She tried to concentrate, her movements stiff and eyes jumping back and forth between her work and the tall figure standing behind her. It seemed like forever before he finally moved from his first position, and turned to gather his own supplies, thankfully leaving to start cleaning another room.

By the end of the night Lydia was more than ready to get home. She finished her work just as the giant clock on the wall struck five thirty, and thanks to daylight savings time, it was already pitch black outside. The December air was cold on her back. The relentless wind smacked into her shoulders in a shove that threatened to knock her over. Instead, Lydia pulled her trench coat tighter around her, shivering. She walked down the stairs but couldn't help but shake the nagging feeling of being watched. Turning, Lydia looked to her sides, having a hard time seeing in the dark. The uneasy feeling didn't leave her, so in a bout of self consciousness, she pulled her coat tighter, and finished descending the stairs.

"Lydia…?"

The sound of her name made her stiffen. The voice was whispery and faint, uncertain yet solid. She knew the voice, and dreaded turning her head to see its owner.

There he stood, tall and lankly before her. Kea's silhouette stood stark against the darkness. His face was hidden with shadows and his hair was covered with a dusky cabby hat. All she could make out was the glowing white of his eyes, staring at her. Unconsciously she pulled her trench tighter.

"Lydia…" He repeated, just as breathy. He started descending the cold stairs until he reached the bottom step. He towered over her, making her feel small and insignificant. Turning her head nervously, she noted no cars in sight; the street was barren and dead.

"I…wanted to talk with you." Kea bit out nervously. She could now make out the white of his teeth. The bleak street light reflected off them. They were _too _white, perfect even, and she hated that. Kea was in all actually not that bad to look at. He still had the youthfulness of a twenty-year old and his smile was warm and innocent. To Lydia however, she found it unnerving. He seemed _too _innocent, too docile, and too nice. He looked easy going and submissive, like he would turn the world upside down if only she asked for it. It was flattering really, but Lydia didn't find it at all endearing or attractive. At most, she found it irksome and annoying.

"I have to get home," Lydia stiffened and turned around, hoping to get to the main street and bus stop without him following her.

"I could give you a lift."

"No."

She started walking, ignoring him, half hoping that if she did he would simply disappear.

"Wait."

No such luck.

She heard Kea's big heavy feet behind her, and suddenly noticed her heart drumming fast and her breath picking up. It was accented by a puff of white against the cold night every time she expelled air.

"Lydia… I have a car; I can take you to your apartment. It's not so far from my house. Look its freezing cold out here, why sit at a bus stop and freeze?"

His logic was almost sickeningly true. The truth was Lydia never minded the cold and would be completely content to wait at the bus corner. The look in his eyes was that of warmth and compassion. She had never noticed how soft his eyes were; maybe it was how the street lights reflected off of them, she wasn't sure. His kind words began to alter her ideas of sitting at the cold bus stop. She continued staring at him and almost tilted her head in gratitude. It didn't make sense to sit there and shiver when he was happy to give her a lift to her apartment. The thought suddenly split through her, zapping her hard in the gut and sending off pulses of panic racing through her blood.

"How…how do you know where I live?" Lydia stated cautiously. Slowly she began taking steps back, not leaving her eyes from his face.

His expression faltered and he bit his pink lip, like he had just blurted out a secret he didn't want to expel. "Well, I--"

"Don't touch me." Lydia growled, pulling her arm away from where he tried touching her. Breathing harder Lydia began to back up farther, in a split second she was about ready to turn tail and run.

"Please Lydia wait…I only want to help you…you have to understand this," He reached out for her again.

Growing more worried Lydia shouted, "I said don't touch me!"

Kea jumped back, started by her yell, lifting his hands up in a defensive gesture. It was enough to send Lydia into a mad run. She wasn't even fully aware that the direction she was going was the opposite direction of her bus stop.

Completely aware that she might be slightly over reacting, Lydia jumped over some hedges and landed right behind a parked truck. She held her breath as she heard Kea's frantic calling of her name, like a desperate man. She heard him coming closer and had to clamp her hand over her mouth, hoping he would just turn around and give up. Luck was not on her side as she heard his feet hit the gravel around the parking lot she was hiding in.

"Lydia! Please stop this, I didn't mean to frighten you." His voice was genuine, or at least sounded that way; Lydia wasn't quite sure what to believe at this moment. She was being juvenile and foolish. Kea didn't have a hurtful bone in his body, why was she overreacting like this?

She heard the gravel under his feet approaching her and figuring she was already in pretty deep, Lydia decided the best thing she could do was move. Quietly, as to not disturb the gravel under her own feet, Lydia slowly moved away from her cover and over to the next, ducking and sliding along their sleek shining finishing until she made it to the end of the parking lot.

Lydia could have sworn she heard a chuckle, deep, baritone and gut wrenching. Startled, Lydia skidded to a stop and slid on the gravel. She screamed out as she collided to the ground. In horror, Lydia crawled behind the large dumpster. Lydia knew Kea heard her, because the frequent calling of her name ceased, and the footfalls became faster and louder. Frantic and not sure what she should do, Lydia looked desperately around her for a possible escape route. She didn't see anything much less diving into the vat of smelly waste.

It was then the wind picked up. It was a random burst of wind that almost felt unnatural in its suddenness. Within the chilling breeze a paper fluttered and soon landed not a foot in front of her feet. It was dingy and crinkled, barely noticeable in the dark, but she marveled for a second at it. The wind blew slightly and played with its crinkled edges. With a shaking hand Lydia reached over and picked it up, curious as to what such a thing was. It was an advertisement. The paper was yellowed and she could smell its muskiness even over the garbage. On it was a picture of what looked like a large beetle holding an even bigger mallet.

_BETELGEUSE_

_THE BIO-EXORCIST_

_Troubled by the living?_

_Is that the problem and not the solution?_

_Unhappy with eternity?_

_Having difficulty adjusting?_

_Call_

_BETELGEUSE  
BETELGEUSE  
BETELGEUSE_

Lydia's mouth fell open as she read, her eyes scanning over the paper like she didn't believe it was right in front of her. She was unaware until that moment that she had read it out loud, but noticed that the footsteps had ceased. Folding the flyer carefully, Lydia tucked it into her pocket and sat up, gingerly looking over the dump. Not a soul there.

She could have sworn she heard that same croaky laughter, but it was almost as faint as the wind. Nervously, Lydia stood up and crept from behind the garbage. It was unnaturally silent. She felt uneasy and suddenly nervous by it all. Where did Kea go? And did _he _actually show up? Lydia bit her lip, unwilling to say his name even in her own mind in fear of somehow summoning him. But she had, hadn't she? She had read the flyer in a whisper of her breath, uttered his name with unabated fascination, at least she thought she did. She wouldn't risk saying his name three more times in order to banish him back, for fear that she hadn't summoned him, and he would appear in front of her now, with grimy hair, dusty suit and moldy face, his greenish teeth leering at her pulled back in that slimy look of arrogance as he heartily chortled a, "How's is hangin' Sweet-cheeks?" or something similar.

No, but he wasn't there. It was silent, something _he _surely never was. He enjoyed making a scene, enjoyed creating a grand entrance with a boisterous display of ghostly power and bad puns. Maybe she was mistaken, and she hadn't called his name in the night, too endorsed with fear to realize it. Maybe Kea just got fed up and left. Realizing that this had to be the only explanation, Lydia Deetz began to walk back to her bus stop, unconsciously giving her trench coat another tight squeeze.

The trip back was a silent, yet quick one. The bus was on time for once, and Lydia was more than grateful. She quickly found her keys and jammed them in her door. It took a few good hard twists and turns and a good hard shove before the door finally gave way and let her in. Her apartment was silent and smelled damp, like it always did. Heaving a sigh Lydia dropped her keys and jacket onto the coffee table and made it into the kitchen for instant tea. She needed to calm her nerves.

Lydia's mind wandered over the night's activities as she watched the kettle on the stove heat up. Kea gave her the chills, and his stunt tonight was the final straw on her quiet dismissal of him. He needed to learn to leave her alone, and stalking her was definitely out of the question. He gave her a fright, but nothing near the thrill she experienced years ago.

With _him._

It wasn't as bad as she recalled it, having replayed the events in her mind over and over through the years. She had been generally frightened when the stair railing turned into a giant snake and attacked them, in all honestly who wouldn't? However she quickly got over the fear once she realized who he was and talked with him. He, with his less than impressive features, merely creeped her out. He was an overweight, vulgar man with bad hygiene, not something very intimidating in Lydia's mind. She had needed his help and the slime actually blackmailed her into marriage. She could still remember that night unfolding; from his wonky carousel entrance to Otho's fashion statement. In all honesty under different circumstances, she would have laughed at such a comical display. But no, he had wanted her to be his bride. Somehow fixing her in a gaudy (albeit beautiful in her opinion) red wedding dress. He then proceeded to make an even bigger fool out of her, as well as himself. How many damn snakes and rodents can he pull out of his coat anyway? No, _He _was nothing more than a joke to her. A rather, creepy, perverted one at that.

This was not what Lydia thought the dead would be like. She had somehow expected the dead to look more…well threatening. Instead she got two average looking Joes in designer sheets and a man representing half the American male population. Lydia snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of a whistle. Turning off the stove burner, Lydia moved the kettle onto the table, pouring herself the boiling water into a mug in which rested a tea bag.

God, she was exhausted. The night had drained her, and she was slowly finding it difficult to stay awake and not pass out into her cup of tea. What time was it anyway? It couldn't be all that late. Lydia heard the tick-tock of a clock and glanced over at the wall. She was right, it was only eight thirty. It seemed much later, however that's what time her small black and white cat clock said, its eyes and tail swinging with each monotonous tick-tock. Lydia took a sip of her tea and almost spit it out.

_Cat clock? _

Putting her mug down, Lydia carefully walked over to the wall, staring at the clock with confusion and astonishment, and was that a twinge of panic? Lydia Deetz may be many things, but crazy she was not., and she knew she didn't own a cat clock. Standing right in front of it, Lydia glared at it like it would jump off the wall and shred her to death. My, what a pathetic death that would be; death by killer cat clock. She could see the papers now.

But it innocently stayed put, obediently swaying back and forth with each passing second, entranced by the rhythmic and almost mesmerizing effect, when suddenly,

"Babes!"

Lydia screeched out as it spoke, the cat face mouthing the word and forcing her to jump back. Immediately she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind and a cold breath by her ear. She screamed out in dead fright, turning to see the face she all but missed. Before she even had time to react, he had her in a dip, and his mouth on hers. Lydia struggled through it, feeling his grimy lips on her and his tongue forcefully plowing through her mouth. Just as quickly it was over and she sputtered, wiping her mouth and trying to get out of his grasp.

"Aww….I knew you would call me, I just knew you would. I had faith in you all along. You would never let me down, would ya, babes?"

She could smell his breath and it caused her insides to shiver, she fought to get out of his hold, not believing that he was here. This couldn't be real, it couldn't.

He squeezed her in the tightest hug she had ever been given, nearly suffocating. Lydia made a mewling noise to try to get out of his grasp, but he seemed to take it the wrong way.

"Hey, I know what this is about," He started, that ever humorous ring of his voice all the while. For the first time in four years, Lydia looked up into his face. Her mouth fumbled open but she couldn't find her voice. He was still as moldy as before, teeth still yellowed, and skin still deathly white.

"You are still upset about the wedding." Here he made a movement with his free hand, as though to interrupt her, even though she didn't make any indication that she was going to. "I know, I know. Now, listen here doll, I know it wasn't your fault that it was cut short, those damn Maitlands interfering in all my plans…But I promise… I will make it up to you. I will! Whatever it takes you make my dame happy." His eccentric expression and display made her stiff and unsure of what to do, utterly shell shocked. What the hell was going on?

"You know what," He chuckled a little bit here, giving her a good hearty (though obviously staged) smile. "I'll even let you pick when and where babes, how about that?"

Finally after a few seconds of blank staring on her part, Lydia came to life and pried herself out of his grasp, knowing it was only because he loosened his grip. She distanced herself from him and glared.

"You…What are _you _doing here?" She voiced, even after she said it she knew how unbelievably stupid it was to ask.

"Well, uh," he raised his eyebrow, pointing to her. "You called me here, babes."

He gave a dramatic sigh; a little too dramatic to be taken seriously, then he collapsed onto his knees before her, making sobbing noises as he grasped her pant leg. "And I wanted so bad to protect you…make sure my bride-to-be was safe an' sound all these lonely years without me. So when I heard you were in trouble, I had to take action, protect what's mine an' all. That's how you found my ad."

"The advertisement." Realization dawned in her eyes as she stared at him. So she had read it out loud. She could have cursed herself at the moment if she could spare a few thoughts. Things were spiraling out of control and fast. She needed to stay focused and contemplate the situation and….was that a hand on her thigh?

Squealing, Lydia kicked him as hard as she could, nailing him painfully where all men were vulnerable…and apparently ghosts too. He fell back onto the floor and grasped himself cursing under her breath.

"Aww…what was that for babes? Here I am, protectin' your little breathin' bum from crazed possible sex offenders and what do I get in return?"

"Stop acting like a fool. I know your games," Lydia grit out, growing quickly annoyed by his shenanigans. "And the sympathy card doesn't work on me; I've seen it enough on everyone's faces."

She heard Beetlejui—_him_ sigh and slowly sit up, then stand. He dusted off his clearly dirty jacket. She immediately recognized the pinstripe design from their previous meeting. He was looking at her, no, _leering _at her. His bright, almost glowing green eyes devoured her with his crude gaze. She felt sick and violated even though she had on those terrible scrubs.

"Kea," the thought suddenly entered her mind. "What did you do to him?"

He looked at her straight in the eyes, and Lydia felt a strange shiver run through her. What was with that look? It looked like he was penetrating her, peeling through the layers of her soul to get right into the hot center. Then he smiled.

"Now see, I don't scare and tell, not my style." He stated calmly.

"Is he at least alive?"

The ghost before her only shrugged. "Yes, no, maybe, possibly, outlook not so good, ask again later; would ya like to shake a fuckin' eight ball, babe? What's with all the questions?" His voice was razor sharp and cut into her like a jagged knife, causing her to shiver.

"This can't be happening," Lydia grumbled miserably, shaking her head in an attempt to come to some normalcy. How she hated that word but…this had to be a dream.

"Oh but it is."

She jumped when it sounded right besides her ear. He was inches away from her, his body almost overtop of hers. She hadn't realized he had gotten so close, and she damned herself for not noticing.

"You've grown." He stated simply, breathing against her ear. Lydia tried to push him away, but he only grabbed her arms and pinned them against his chest, trapping her against the wall. He looked her up and down, one of his eyebrows lifting as he met her face.

"But what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Let go of me you pig!' Lydia struggled. He eventually freed her, and she stumbled through the kitchen doorway into the living room, never once taking her eyes off him.

"Answer my question." His words were forceful, harsh and biting into her ears, yet, oddly….playful? What the hell?

"I work in them. If you had been "checking up on me" like you said, you would have known that." She bit out, not entirely sure why she even bothered telling him.

She thought he would have gotten mad at her biting remarks, threaten or hit her or something, yet he smiled. The ghost looked amused, then that earthy chuckle left his lips. Soon that laughter grew louder and more prominent, until it echoed in her small apartment.

Shocked and admittedly frightened by his erratic mood changes, Lydia sputtered out words, thinking of something to say to make him stop. Having him talk was less threatening that this behavior of his.

"W-what's so funny?"

The ghost looked at her, holding his stomach as if it would fall off and roll away. He looked like he was trying to stop laughing, though failing miserably. Finally, he was able to get words out, in between chortles of hilarity.

"You." He laughed, "You…are really one of a kind, babes!"

Lydia wrinkled her brow and looked at him, not understanding him at all. Hell, she didn't understand herself at the moment.

He collapsed onto her couch slowly ebbing off his laugh drunken high, shaking his head. "And they call me insane," A snort, "Breathers…"

"What do you mean?" She found herself asking before she could help herself. It was her own fault really, she was too damn curious for her own good. Wasn't it her morbid fascination with him that got her involved with the ghost from the get-go all those years ago?

"Well hell," he began shifting on her couch, well, practically _claiming _it by the way he was laying on it. "You've got to be the first flesh bucket to not take one look at me and run screaming. You got fight in ya, and I like that!"

Lydia didn't think she liked that answer, yet she asked for it really. She rustled the idea in her mind, and the realization chilled her. Most people would have been scared shitless of Beetle—of _him_, yet it was true that she was more scared of little innocent Kea more than he. How did that work? The man was dead, that alone should have been enough.

"Hey… Lydia, right?"

His voice startled her into looking at him. She was surprised; bewildered actually that he used her name, that he _remembered _it to begin with.

They were silent for a moment as he stared at her, and Lydia had to gulp down a burning feeling she got by his unnatural gaze. It was inhuman, and scorched her to the bone, a warming sensation she had never felt before. She suddenly realized that he wasn't as threatening as she first thought. There was something in him, not so much human, more _humane_. His heart might be dead, but his eyes were so very alive. She was instantly captivated, curious mostly, wondering what possible secrets, what otherworldly things could _Beetlejuice_ possibly know?

"…You got anything ta drink around here?"

Lydia had to take a minute to comprehend he was talking again, and what he was saying. She shook her head and tried to think.

"In the cabinet." She pointed across the room and watched as he skipped off the couch like a kid given permission to play with dynamite in the house.

She heard the familiar clatter of bottles hitting each other as Beetlejuice sorted through her wine cabinet. His head popped up sometime later, brandishing a bottle in his hands.

"Macallan? Chivas? Glenfiddich? You sure have expensive taste, babes." Beeltejuice's eyebrow rose as he stared at one of the bottles, whistling. "Not that I mind."

"They are from my father's private collection," Lydia didn't know why she was telling him this. "He gave me them as a graduation gift."

She watched as the ghost sat back on the couch, popping the cork of the unopened bottle of prized Macallan and pouring it into shot glasses. Lydia only then noticed he had placed two on the table, and the arch of his brow was his sign to her asking if she would drink. Lydia hesitated, would drinking with Beetlejuice really be a good idea? She shrugged. What the hell, why not?

"Graduation, eh?" Beetlejuice hinted, pouring her shot and setting it down on the coffee table. Lydia bit her lip nervously, unsure if she should sit by him, but ultimately chose to do so, sitting as far off as she could from the ghost.

"How old are ya anyway?" Beetlejuice asked, chugging his shot like it was water.

Lydia gaped amazed for a second. She had never tasted her father's prized Macallan before, but she knew it was strong. Maybe it had to do with being dead, Lydia didn't know, and stared down at her drink.

"Twenty this June," Lydia murmured, swigging her drink. She watched as Beetlejuice's eyebrow rose and lip quirked, impressed. She inwardly smirked; he wasn't the only one who could drink shots like water.

Beetlejuice chuckled, having already poured them both another shot. "Isn't that kind of young in this generation for drinkin?"

"Yes," Lydia answered, "But I am a responsible adult and my father trusts me."

"Sure you are, kid." Beetlejuice murmured, watching her carefully.

Lydia gave him a look, and he only chuckled again. She opened her mouth to bite at him, only to hold her tongue as the very thought hit her. Here she was, sitting in her living room, drinking expensive whiskey with Beetlejuice. The very thought seemed surreal, out right ludicrous, bizarre, and downright impractical. She would never had expected doing so, and silently wondered why she hadn't sent him back already, why she was sitting next to him, talking to him, letting him drink her booze.

Without even realizing it, Lydia refilled her shot glass, not even remembering finishing the one before it. She remained quiet, stuck in her own thoughts and musings and didn't pay much attention to the ghost by her side, who was starting to fidget.

"So um, tell me babes," He began, licking his lips. "Not that I don't appreciate letting me in here an' all, drinkin' your booze and shit like that, but…why haven't you tried to send me back…or hit me, or somethin'?"

Lydia stared at him, blinking. He had a confused look on his face, something that made him look more like a person than a ghost. He had reason to be confused. He had in a sense, turned her life upside down. He tried to marry her, injured her father, and made a fool of her family and yet she let him stay much longer than he probably thought she would permit. What was her reason?

'He helped me.' A small voice said in the back of her head. Yes, Kea. He had helped her, and this small deed justified some sort of thankfulness on her part she guessed.

Lydia shrugged, taking her shot, long past caring that they kept getting easier to take. She could feel the warmth of the whiskey down her throat and inwardly sighed at the wonderful feeling.

"Take it as a sign of gratitude if that's what you want." Lydia mumbled, staring into her clear liquid. She wondered briefly, what her father would think of her right now. How would he take to walking in on her apartment this very moment, seeing her chug down a twenty thousand dollar bottle of whiskey like a pack of Heineken with none other than the ghost who screwed up their lives?

"It's my job, babes," he gave a loud belch, and Lydia cringed, glaring at him in disgust. "I usually don't do jobs for the living, but I figured I would cut ya a deal, you know, with our past and all."

"Whatever," Lydia grumbled, getting lost in her drink. She lost count how many she had now taken, but like usual, didn't care. This was heaven, an escape, and she loved to indulge in its warmth and the trouble-free existence it gave her. The room was suddenly very warm, and the back of her throat burned, yet she felt content, all her problems were melting away. She loved it.

"You know, I ain't as bad as a guy you think I am," Beetlejuice took his swig and gave a long exhale, she could smell his alcoholic breath but refused to berate him for it, for she figured her breath smelled no better.

"Oh, really?" Lydia snorted.

"Yeah," He scratched at his crotch then sat up, looking at her in her half drunken mess. "If I really was that bad, I wouldn't have helped your little dead friends at all. And as far as right now is concerned, I would have left by now, probably messed you up for the hell of it too."

Lydia thought about it for a moment, not entirely sure if the alcohol was effecting her logic. "Maybe so, but you needed to hold up your bargain if you wanted to get your end out of it, marriage that is. And as far as right now, I don't know what the hell is going on. If you really wanted to kill me, you would have already, and plus I am providing you with booze. You don't look like the type to turn down whiskey."

"You're right," Beetlejuice grinned. "And the marriage thing is still up for discussion, as far as I see it, we still have a deal, toots." He brought his drink to his lips.

"And what makes you think I will marry you?!" Lydia violently grabbed at his shot glass and threw it against the table, crashing it and its contents all over the table.

He looked at her to the whiskey that was wasted on the table and frowned. "Damn Lyds, I had no idea you were a violent drunk."

"Shut the fuck up," Lydia growled, calming down and taking her seat again. She took deep breaths to try to calm herself, grabbing at her head. "I have to think about this, this whole night is just….a lot."

"Understandable babes," Beetlejuice muttered, looking at his broken glass, then shrugged and grabbed the bottle, taking a huge swig.

"I'm going to sleep," Lydia grumbled, rubbing her eyes in sudden sleepiness.

Beetlejuice looked over at her with a sleazy grin. "Want some company?"

"No." She grumbled forcefully and walked, or really stumbled, towards her room. Beetlejuice pouted on the couch but it quickly changed back into a grin.

"Don't know why I don't just say your name and send you back to hell…"

"Gratitude babes, gratitude."

Even though he knew it was more because she was more than a bit tipsy.

There was more grumbling, a solemn click of a door and then finally silence. Beetlejuice leaned back into the couch and got comfortable. With a half bottle of whiskey in his hands he gave a long pleasing sigh. Things were going to get fun, he could see it. He was glad Lydia hadn't changed much since he had last seen her. Still lonely and depressed with her life. Still the strange awkward girl that wanted help from anywhere she could grasp it. Still naïve and gullible. Oh this would be fun, _very _fun indeed.

* * *

This is my first story and I feel damn proud for finally publishing it, seriously it has only been taking up my disc space for several months. Now only if I could find time to actually finish it. If you have any comments or suggestions, complaints or declorations of independants let me know. Feedback is my number one fuel to writing. I'm serious. Push the button.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Woo! I finally got this chapter out. This thing was damn hard to squeeze out. I don't know why even. Sorry fot the long wait and thanks a bunch for the reviews! I wasn't so sure if you people would enjoy it, but I am pleasantly surprised. Thanks again, and I will be trying to update a lot sooner this time around. If work doesn't get in the way too much.

Another note of importance: I have recently discovered that has (_finally_) created a Beetlejuice Movie section! I am so excited about that, I mean, it's about damn time! You should all check it out and add stories to it, it's a little neglected at the moment. Anyway, I will be adding my support and moving this story promptly into that category by the next chapter. Thanks again!

Disclaimer: Beetlejuice is not owned by me, myself, _or _I.

* * *

Chapter two

Lydia had woken up to many things in her life. There had been the blaring alarm clock, her step mother's high strung voice, the annoying bird outside her window, and the catty neighbors in the apartment just above her that screamed at each other most of the day. This morning it was the all too common tearing pain of a hangover. Not something unusual for her, but never pleasant. She cringed, grabbing her head wondering what kind of time bomb had gone off inside of it this time. Slowly her head began to defog as she sat up in bed, still gingerly gripping her head. When she got her thoughts in enough order to think, she remembered vividly about the strange encounter with a ghost from her past (quite literally) last night and she quickly grabbed the bed sheets and lifted them up high, praying that she had on some clothes.

With a painful, yet relieved look she noticed she was still wearing her scrubs from the previous day.

"Great, just great." She grumbled. At least she still had some clothes on, that meant one of two things. One, she had dreamt the whole thing and drunk herself sick, or two, the notorious poltergeist had enough decency to not get in her bed and take advantage of her drunken stupor.

The latter was hard to believe.

Even still, her mind was assaulted with 'what ifs' and she suppressed a shudder. His sleazy grin and long fingers…even thinking of it made her want to…to…

Lydia held her mouth and made a dive to her bathroom, just making it in time to see the contents of her stomach spill into the ceramic toilet bowl. Hangovers were a bitch, a bitch that regularly visited her and wouldn't stop nagging at her for her own stupidity.

She lay there for a while, wallowing in her misery and self pity. The ghost --Beetlejuice was far from handsome. He was heavy, dirty, and was probably as old as dirt, not to mention dead. Though she would admit, his eyes were the most dazzling things she had ever seen…

Lydia smacked herself and pulled herself off the floor, walking to the sink to wash her face and brush her teeth.

'I feel like shit,' She thought, dragging her feet out of the bathroom to her closet, pulling out something to wear. She thanked whatever god was out there that she didn't have classes until noon. She couldn't deal with all the stress right now. All at once Lydia stared wide-eyed at her door. The ghost. What was she going to do about him? Was he still there? Maybe it really had been a dream. Maybe she had just come home and drank herself sick like she usually did, and dreamt the whole thing?

Biting her lip Lydia exited her room and slowly made it into the main room. She could still see her cup of tea from last night, completely untouched on the kitchen counter. So far there was no sign of her ghost. Lydia quickly dumped out her tea and set the cup in the sink to be washed later. Hesitantly she walked into the living room, biting her lip nervously again.

Her eyes landed on the snoring lump on her sofa. Her couch was small compared to him, barley accommodating his body. His arms and legs hung off the sides, dangling carelessly about. He was snoring loudly, mouth wide open in a rather humorous display. In one hand held the bottle of Macallan from the previous night, proof of their endeavors.

"So much for being just a dream," Lydia grumbled, prodding his boot with her foot.

Beetlejuice shifted and snorted, but didn't wake from his deep sleep. Lydia briefly wondered why a ghost would need to sleep anyway, but brushed it aside. She had seen the Maitlands sleep, and when she questioned them, they said it was more for familiarity and habit rather than actual need of rest. Again, she prodded his shoe, a little harder, this time going a bit verbal.

"Hey, wake up."

He didn't stir, and Lydia was getting agitated. She couldn't believe what she had actually done last night. What could she have been thinking anyway, drinking with such a…sick…erm, thing? He was a slime ball, someone who had fucked with her life and she acted like he was a good old buddy of hers she hadn't seen in years. Well, he knew how to drink his whiskey, she'd give him that.

Lydia wanted to smack herself for the second time that morning. The sudden thought appalled her. Lydia might agree that she did have a problem with drinking a little more than she probably should, but that was always by herself, in the company of her own home or a lonely bar stool. Yes, she was a lonely drunk and she liked it that way. Why the hell did she just admit something like that? Why was she still thinking about it? Why doesn't she just banish him right now and spare her some fucking grief?

She had serious issues.

More aggravated with herself and her current thoughts than at the sleeping ghost, Lydia grabbed a couch cushion and proceeded to pelt the ghost numerous times over the head with it. Beetlejuice reacted instantly, jumping alive (figuratively speaking, of course) and fighting against the thing that was attacking him. Finally she relented, glaring angrily at the ghost who was looking back and forth with a dazed expression on his face. Soon his eyes landed on her and they narrowed, before a yawn broke out from his giant mouth.

"What the hell was that about?"

"For sleeping on my couch." A lame excuse, even she knew, but she couldn't think of anything better at the moment. Her eyes then flew to the bottle clutched in his hand. Her hand sprung faster than she could think, abandoning the pillow to grasp the bottle and involuntarily skimming her fingers over his, shivering at the sensation it gave her.

Yanking the bottle away, Lydia stared amazed at how light it felt. Turning it upside down her presumption was correct, as nothing came out.

"You…you drank all my whiskey!"

Her answer was only a shrug and a scratch to the crotch.

"You…you idiot! This bottle costs more than I make in a year's salary!" Lydia sputtered, utterly aghast by the sight before her.

"Hey! I saved your unappreciative pulse, and since you didn't pay, need I remind you, I had to get it somehow," Beetlejuice said defensively.

"How dare you!" Lydia growled and winced inwardly as her head wrung. Yeah, that hangover was still alive and kicking.

"You had a piece of it too ya know," His expression just as quickly changed, and he grinned at her. "I don't think I ever seen a woman take so many shots before and still get up walkin'. I have'ta admit, I was impressed."

"Sh-shut up," Lydia grumbled, unsure how she should respond to… what was that, a compliment? "Look, why are you even still here? I thought you would have been causing mayhem all over town by now. If you are expecting me to grovel at your feet in thanks, you're out of your mind."

"I don't expect nothin' from you," He shrugged, his character changed instantly into a more solemn expression; something that looked unsettling on him. He stood up from the couch and Lydia backed up in reflex, finding his serious and hard demeanor disconcerting, maybe she would even admit frightening.

"Ya see here, toots. Your words don't mean shit to me. I didn't have to save your little dead beat ghost friends from your brainless relatives, but I did. For what? Nothin', that's what. I got nothin' outta that. Nothin', zip, zilch, nadda, nil, big o' zero. The way I see it, I have helped your ungrateful little skin twice and the only thing I ever got from it was a one way ticket to hell through a sandworm. So no, I don't expect getting anything out of you. Fucking breathers think they're the greatest…"

Lydia's eyes widened as she stared up at Beetlejuice who was still running off at the mouth. He went from talking to her to muttering and complaining to himself.

"Then why did you?" Lydia found her voice, hardly able to ask the question that developed in her mind.

"What?" Beetlejuice, who was still busy rambling on about how he hated the living, shot up a questioning brow.

"Why did you help me last night, if you really thought that?" Her eyes couldn't stray from his, which had opened a little wider.

Lydia watched as he fumbled for something to say, an extremely odd look for him. Beetlejuice always knew what to say, whether it was a comment used to rile someone up or con them out of their money. He looked quite out of character, since he was rarely thrown so off guard. She knew by staring in his eyes he was trying to rake up an answer to throw him back in control. The ball was in her playing field right now, and Lydia was going to play it for what it was worth.

"If you really think I am such a hassle, why haven't you done anything yet? Why am I still standing here? You have me cornered and I have no way of protecting myself. Why not kill me now? That's what you want, isn't it?"

Lydia could practically see the gears working in the ghost's mind. He grumbled something, flashing his crooked teeth before moving back from her, his eyebrows jumped up.

"Kill? Who said anything about killing, Lyds?" The nickname was spoken soft, but still in a gravelly tone. Lydia always hated people calling her that; however she would have been lying if she said she didn't like how he said it. "The last thing I need is a whiny ghost following me around for the rest of my afterlife with some stupid notion of revenge and injustice. I have enough chicks chasing me around and shit like that already…" She saw something twitch in his eye that looked an awful lot like playfulness. He looked at her but she just stared blankly at him. Beetlejuice huffed and continued.

"Look, I ain't gonna hurt ya, kid. It just ain't my style."

A bit ruffled about being called a kid, Lydia took a breath and took a daring step forward. She felt a sudden pang of guilt as she reviewed everything he had said to her. Back those years ago he had kept up his deal; the Maitlands had been spared from exorcism, a fate worse than death. While she was very thankful that she didn't have to marry him in the end, and he really had no right to ask her of such a thing, she was sure that he didn't deserve getting eaten by a sandworm. He deserved some form of penalty, but something maybe a little less… painful sounding. Then, last night he had helped her get away from Kea. She reasoned the least she could do for him was show a little more gratitude and not snap at him so much

Biting her lip, Lydia let out a sigh. She wasn't used to this thing. "I'm…sorry, that things didn't work out."

Beetlejuice stumbled slightly, "Pardon?" He made to clean out his ear with his pinky, "I don't think I heard you right."

"You didn't deserve what happened to you those years ago, and even though I should hate you for trying to con me into marriage for your own selfish reasons, I don't. You did help me, and I'm …sorry about the sandworm." She could beat herself over the head with a big stick. This was why she avoided people. She hated conversation and interaction with other people; she just was never good at it. Just another thing she failed at. She would never have thought she would ever stand in front of this ghost again, and apologize of all things. She suddenly felt real stupid for admitting it.

There was a moment of silence that made Lydia nervous that he wouldn't accept it. However in that instant, she immediately realized her mistake. He was grinning at her widely and she cursed herself mentally, knowing full well he had just played her. Beetlejuice turned swiftly before she had time to curse him and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Aw, I forgive ya babes, how could I stay mad at you?"

Lydia made a choking noise as she was smothered by his suit jacket. She was not getting used to his sporadic personalities and cursed herself for falling for his antics. Lydia 'eeped' as she felt a hand groping her backside and roughly pushed the offending ghost off of her, glaring at him angrily.

"Pervert." She growled, though Beetlejuice just continued to grin wolfishly.

It had been many years since Beetlejuice had been Out. Actually, it had been since the disastrous wedding that was, what did Lyds say, four years? Damn, that was a long time to be in the waiting room. Beetlejuice hated waiting and being bored. He became nervous and fidgety if he wasn't entertained by something for very long. Juno knew this, and he wouldn't be surprised if she purposely gave him such a high waiting number just out of spite.

But now he was Out and things were getting back to what they should be and he could pick up where he left off. He just had to convince Lydia of that. Ah, Lydia. Sure, he had spent four wasted years in the waiting room doing nothing but gathering dust, but the years were definitely kind to her. Beetlejuice grinned wolfishly. He was a bit worried when he first met her, that she would remain shapeless and scrawny. He was pleased to see that in such a short time she had developed delectable curves and, as he had to cop a feel just now, an absolutely firm little bottom.

Lydia's mouth was moving, grumbling something to him but they didn't reach his ears, for he was still busy molesting her with his eyes. He was surprised that she hadn't sent him back by now, and even more by her apology. She was actually apologizing to him. Him! He was going for sympathy, but got a little bonus! Poor naïve fool of a girl. Little scrap of a girl. Little Lydia Deetz, meek and wanting attention from any source she could get. He knew how he was, a sleazy con artist that grabbed at every chance he could get. He was proud of that. But here he stood once again in front of this girl who was once at the mercy of his hoax and didn't try and send him packing yet. Even _he _wouldn't be that trusting of _himself_.

Last night she was shocked by his sudden appearance and that temporarily prevented her from remembering to send him away, then once she had a few drinks in her there was no problem. Now however she had woke him up (rather unpleasantly, he would have preferred a good morning kiss after all) and apologized to him for something he barely cared about. Really, Beetlejuice had a short attention span. A deal went bad, you lick your wounds and keep moving; it's happened before. It was the sandworm that irked him. That shit hurt. And the one to blame for that incident was that damn yuppie Barbara Maitland.

Beetlejuice left his musings when he saw Lydia shift and move awkwardly towards the kitchen, or, the kitchenette, since it really wasn't big enough for two people to stand in there comfortably. She was walking stiff and was pathetically trying to avoid looking at him, or even in his general direction. She looked beyond gawky and tense, like she wasn't used to having conversations with people. God, was she really this much of a stick in the mud? She acted like she had never let loose and had fun before, like she had lived under a rock most of her life. Beetlejuice was suddenly hit with the image of a younger Lydia, garbed in a shapeless black shroud, staring down at him with a frown that looked permanent on her gloomy face.

'_I want to get in.' _She had said. Wonder what she went through to make herself such a bland broad. He was willing to bet she was probably still a virgin too. That thought made Beetlejuce's grin widen.

"And what are you smiling about?"

There was that socially awkward ring in her voice. He had noted it since the day he met her. Never liked to talk much, did she?

Beetlejuice shrugged. "Nothin,' just thinkin' about old times."

"…Right."

Her sentence was left flat and floating in the air as she turned to cook whatever it was she began cooking on the stove. It did smell surprisingly good though.

Moving into the kitchenette, and into Lydia's personal space in the process, he stood with his head peering over her shoulder. Lydia immediately stiffened, not daring to move her face and risk coming into contact with him.

"I didn't know you could cook babes." Beetlejuice rose a brow.

"There is a lot you don't know about me. In fact you only knew me for about fifteen minutes."

"Touche." Beetlejuice relinquish. "But we connected, I tell ya. The two of us, we're like Romeo and Juliet, Bonny and Clyde, Whitney and Bobby."

Lydia let out a loud laugh. "Oh, yeah right. How do we connect at all? …And didn't all of those relationships ended in disaster?"

Beetlejuice straightened up and put on his best suave look. "Ya mean ya don't believe at love at first sight?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "No, spare me the bullshit."

"Okay, okay." Beetlejuice dropped the act and ran a hand through his messy hair. "What'so bad about your life anyway, babes? You got rich folks, a big house, the whole nine yards." Beetlejuice quickly changed the subject. Lydia's lack of people's skills made her easy to manipulate and keep her right where he wanted her. The longer he kept her preoccupied, the longer he had to think up a plan to stay permanently in the Living World. Her naivety wouldn't last forever, and that was what he was walking on right now.

However, Lydia remained eerily quiet and still, even for her. Her spatula stiffened where it was poised to flip what he now identified as sausages.

"That's really none of your business." She spoke finally. It was almost a whisper, breathy and light.

Beetlejuice shrugged and leaned against the counter. "Hey, thas' fine. Personal space, I get it. Tell ya the truth; I don't care too much about hearin' a melodramatic teen sob story anyway." He watched as Lydia turned the fire off from under the skillet and placed her breakfast on a plate. One plate. Beetlejuice frowned.

"Hey, what ever happened to being polite? I'm your guest here." Beetlejuice grumped, standing straight up.

Lydia had seated herself at the table and looked up at Beetlejuice with a raise of a brow.

"You eat? Aren't you dead?" She put dryly.

Well, she was right, he didn't need to eat but damn, it had been _years_ since he had human food and damn if those sausages didn't smell really good right now.

"Hey, us dead guys can eat too ya know. Haven't you seen those Maitland stiffs eat?"

"No."

Beetlejuice made a huffing noise and was about to give up when he saw Lydia stand up from her chair and reach into a cabinet. She came back with another plate and placed it on the other side of the table. It was all the invitation the ghost needed.

"There's no bugs in it." Lydia pointed out.

"…Tha's fine." Beetlejuice really didn't care. The smell of the food in front of him was causing him to salivate. Eagerly he picked up one sausage (ignoring the fork given to him) and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. It was warm. It had been a long time since he had tasted anything warm. He could feel and taste the warm juices as they swashed back and forth in his hungry mouth and down his throat. Secretly that was the reason he enjoyed insects so much (besides the gross effect it had on people). Every food-stuff in the Afterlife was cold and the only thing that actually '_lived_' that he could get a hold of were insects, which were always plentiful and warm and fresh with life. Compared to actual food though, the bugs tasted like spit and shoe polish. Before he knew it, he popped another one into his mouth and nearly moaned.

"You act like you haven't eaten in years." Lydia commented, staring with an odd sort of awe at the act of him eating. Most women would turn their head away in disgust, make some comment about manners or some shit like that, but Lydia just stared like he was some kind of morbidly fascinating creature. This chick really was weird.

"I haven't."

It could have been the sheer blunt truth of the admission, or the way he said it like it was a regular thing, but Lydia suddenly looked pityingly at him. Oh, this was too perfect. Yeah, like he wouldn't drain this one dry.

"It's rather hard you know. Just because we're dead doesn't mean we don't get hunger pains."

Utter bullshit.

"I sat in the waiting room with nothing to eat for four long years. God was it awful." He covered his face with his hands dramatically.

"Four years? You were in there this _whole _time?"

Bingo. She fell for it, hook line and sinker.

"It was torture babes, trust me. Not something I want to experience. See why I want ta get out of there?" Beetlejuice raised a pitying eyebrow.

It was silent for a little bit after that, only the sounds of scraping dishes was heard, then finally her voice.

"That does sound like it sucks."

Because of the long pause, it took Beetlejuice a moment to realize what she was referring to and to remember what lie he had told her. He then shrugged and continued his meal, sadly noticing he only had one sausage left.

"Yeah well, shit happens. The important thing is I'm out and back in business."

"Back in business? As in that Bio-exorcist stuff? Is that why I found your advertisement? Do you expect me to pay you?"

Damn. Lydia might be naive, but she sure was sharp when it came to business. Think of something quick, now.

"Nah, babes, not you. Yours is on the house, you know, cause we're so close an' all." He leaned back in the chair.

"Close?" Lydia looked exasperated. "What the hell does that mean? I hardly know you."

"In case you forgot doll face," Beetlejuice quirked a brow, "We're engaged."

It took Lydia a moment to realize that he had said "we're engaged" instead of "we were engaged." Angrily she stood up and snatched up the plates, ignoring the whines her ghost made when she took his only remaining sausage.

"The hell we are!" She slammed the dishes into the sink, cringing at her explosive headache. She turned back to the ghost and pointed an accusing finger at him. "You may think you can pull some sneaky crap on me, but I know your sleazy –conning ways! Shit, I grew up in New York!"

New York? Damn, he had pegged her as a little country girl. Maybe he should rethink his strategy.

"Hey listen, let's not blow things out of proportion, here okay? How about I strike a deal with you? " Beetlejuice stood up and licked his lips, eyeing her with an intensity that caused her to involuntarily shiver.

"And what makes you think I will trust you? I'm not going to marry you." Lydia crossed her arms and glared at the ghost.

"Nah, nah forget the marriage thing, I'm talkin' straight, bare ass-naked deal makin' here."

"How would I know you are not going to try the same thing you pulled last time?" Lydia countered, crossing her arms.

Beetlejuice puffed up and looked a little offended. "Hey! Last time I checked I did what you wanted, you are the one who screwed me! Not even in the good way, either, I might add."

"Ugh," Lydia cringed and turned away. Beetlejuice wanted to make a deal with her, she should have figured. He never did anything for free. She didn't have any money to pay him and he did supposedly get rid of her stalker.

"What do you want?" Lydia forcefully asked, already cringing at the answer she might get.

Behind her bangs she saw that wide toothed grin break forth on his face and knew in an instant she was in trouble.

"Well we got a situation goin' on. You got problems with your world, and hey let's face it; the afterlife is full of nothing but dead beats and bad liquor, totally not my scene, ya know? So how's about we says this: If you let me Out here every, oh…now and again, I can handle your "little" social problems. We both win, no harm done."

"What social problems?" Lydia blanched and tried to hide her insecurity.

"You're shittin' me, right?" Beetlejuice looked at her with a raise of his brow, "You gotta be the most socially awkward person I had ta meet. No offense doll face, you're hot and all, but you got the personally of a rotten tree stump. "

Lydia, more than a little offended, backed away and glared at the ghost in anger.

"I will have you know, that I am not socially awkward, I just don't fit in the easiest when it comes to hormone-driven, wild party-going college students."

Beetlejuice, who had pulled out an Emory board and was filing his nails while Lydia was talking, glanced briefly from his task and looked at her incredulously.

"Sure," he said.

"It's the truth," She pressed, stomping her foot. "I've got friends, you know!"

"Yeah, and any of them still livin'?" Beetlejuice asked.

Lydia fell silent, deeply hurt by the cold hard truth of what Beetlejuice was saying. The truth was, Lydia never made any friend besides the Maitlands. She never cared to be outgoing enough to meet new people and shied away when people came to her. After a while people would just ignored her or took one look at her and call her a freak. She got locked in lockers, had her lunch money stolen, and was bullied throughout most of her school year. Even in college she was ridiculed and mocked. It hurt, as much as she tried telling herself it didn't. It hurt and she wanted it to stop.

"I can help ya, babes."

Warm whiskey. She stiffened when she felt the breeze of his dead breath against her skin and the words whispered affectionately in her ear. She had no idea how he moved so fast behind her, or how fast his hands landed upon her waist. All she noticed was the easy answer in his words. He could do it…he had the power to make it all stop. He could make the bullying to stop, the violence and abuse, and even get her lecherous boss to back away.

The promise was almost too tempting to be true. It would make everything easier on her. He would do her dirty work, and she would get him out of the Nietherworld for a while. She did owe him. He had helped her, twice now. The little voice in her head suddenly grew louder, and before she could help herself, she blurted out her answer.

"You have a deal, Beetlejuice."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: You have to forgive me for taking so long to update. The truth is; between college, family issues and the fact that my CAR was TOTALED thanks to a freakin' DEER, I am going through a bit of a rough time. I appreciate everyone who took the time and reviewed, and I will be responding to each comment I get. They all mean a lot to me. I pushed this chapter out for you all; your motivation helped me do it. Thanks again.

Disclaimer: Beetlejuice and all likeliness-es are not owned by moi. Too bad, we could of had some _fuuuuun_.

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Chapter 3

She knew the instant she let the words slide from her mouth she made a mistake. Caught up in the moment, Lydia had answered without any real thought involved. She had thrown rationality into the wind and smacked her common sense in the face with a spiked two by four. She didn't even have to look to know that Beetlejuice had a shit-eating grin on his face. She could feel his cold, dead un-breath against her neck and it sent shivers down her back.

"Fabulous!" Just as quickly he had reappeared in front of her and with a wave of his fingers, conjured a yellowed, wrinkled paper out of thin air. "Just sign yer name here, here, and oh…here."

The paper floated its way towards her and a black-tipped quill popped into her hand.

"…What is all this?" Lydia blinked at the document, which caption boldly presented in thick, cursive black ink:

_Statement of Treaty to Betelgeuse III, Esquire._

"Jus' some insurance," Beetlejuice waved off his hands, "In case you decide to get cold feet again, ya know, try to make me Sandworm Cuisine again an' all that biz."

"That wasn't my fault," Lydia found herself feeling defensive again, and quickly shook it off. She read over the page and noticed the bold print near the bottom, just above where her signature should go:

'_WILL NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, SEEK OR ATTEMPT TO SUMMON SANDWORMS.'_

He must _really _hate sandworms.

'Why do I get the feeling that I'm signing my soul away to the devil?' Lydia thought, biting her lip.

Before she knew it, the very tip of her quill touched the dotted line on the page and her hand suddenly felt prickly and out of control, and before she even knew it, wrote out her full name. Lydia didn't get control of her hand back until the last signature was signed. She jerked it back forcefully; gripping her wrist like it pained her. It felt tingly, like it had suddenly fallen asleep on her, and she glared angrily at Beetlejuice. Damn insurance indeed…he might as well forge her name himself.

Just then the quill vanished from her hands and the document rolled up like a window blind or an old piano roll, then poofed into non-existence once again.

"What…?"

"Aw, babes, I knew we had an understandin.' It'll be great, just you wait!"

There was a pop, a sizzling sound and an overpowering scent of ozone, then nothing at all.

Lydia was left alone gaping into her living room wondering what had so suddenly happened and what she just signed away. Whatever it was, she immediately regretted doing so. Lydia groaned and looked up at her clock, grateful at least this one did not resemble a cat. It was time for her to get ready for classes; she would have to deal with the ghost afterwards.

She had finally gotten her car out of the shop. Lydia had struggled to get a vehicle after her move and after her first three months in the apartment, Lydia had found a used car that was in well enough shape to get her to work and school. Last week however, the transmission died, and Lydia had to unfortunately ask her father to borrow the money to pay for a new one. As much as she would like, Lydia did not have two thousand dollars to spare. She was able to take a bus to the mechanic and pick it up just before her class started.

Lydia trudged into her first class of the day. She always hated first classes, she felt a reluctance to be there and it always felt longer then it was. Half of the class she spent staring at the clock, waiting for it to strike one thirty. As time passed on, Lydia found her eyes glued to the small second hand, waiting for it to make one more rotation. It always seemed the last minute took the longest. Finally it landed on the mark, signifying the end of her class. Already packed, Lydia sprang from her chair and headed for the door, passing by students who were talking and laughing with each other. She felt their eyes on her back as she left the door.

The moment she left the room Lydia took a long expelling breath. The tension she felt in class always suffocated her. A few people were nice, they smiled at her in the hallway and gave short exchanges of "hi", but nothing beyond that. She was more than ready to get out, and nearly sighed again as she saw the doors. Lydia picked up her pace slightly and opened the doors, stepping out and breathing in the, while not exactly clean, air of outside. There were people relaxing outside of the doors, and when they saw Lydia step out, they all got suddenly quiet. One kid laughed quietly under their breath as she walked by. When she passed them she threw all of them a glare behind her back and continued her way. She knew she stood out, and looked different from everyone else. She didn't care. She adored wearing the color black and always got labeled as a goth. Lydia hated that.

She was dark, yes, she didn't smile much, yes, she enjoyed morbid things and all matters of supernatural and superstitious, yes, but she was not goth. Gothic was a stereo-type. Lydia hated stereotypes. She hated being labeled, being thrown in a category with an assumed number of other people. Gothics were known expressionists of the occult, some were Satan worshipers or into Wicca, all wore heavy black makeup and black baggy clothes and chains. Some were just kids who liked the fashion statement and became one just to walk around looking rebellious. Lydia had her own fashion, she just happened to be most appealing to the color black. It was dark and morbid, things she thought reflected herself. Lydia did not study occult, she never wore ridiculously heavy amounts of black makeup (she rarely wore any makeup to begin with), and did not write depressing poetry about how life was awful and pathetic. To label Lydia as a gothic would be an insult to her originality.

Still that was what she was called, and Gothics were known receptionists to abuse and ridicule. She heard someone from behind her scream out '_Black Widow' _and tensed slightly_. _It was the nickname she was given, because she was never seen with any males. Lydia found it disgusting; just because she didn't socialize herself with boys and purposely flaunt about them like air-headed prats, they immediately associated herself with the deadly little spider. She huffed and kept moving, ignoring them like usual and got into her small car.

She made it home and collapsed onto her couch utterly exhausted. She planned on staying there until she fell asleep, until she heard a loud, unmistakable snort.

"So… Wisconsin, eh?"

Lydia groaned and picked up her head. Her tired eyes landed on the form of Beetlejuice, who was lounging quite comfortably on her armchair. In his hand was a cigarette, and he brought it to his lips after a while to take a long drag.

"Can I ask you something?" Beetlejuice let out the smoke from his lips and nostrils, reminding her of a Medieval dragon. "Why the hell did you move to Wisconsin? Isn't that a little far from Connecticut?"

"That's the point," Lydia replied definitively.

Beetlejuice didn't ask about the bitterness of her words. Instead he shrugged and sat up.

Lydia mimicked him and rested her head against the wall. "Where did you go anyway? You just disappeared."

Beetlejuice grinned at her. "Miss me?"

"Hardly," Lydia grumbled and got up. She made her way over to her liquor cabinet and opened it up. She grumbled louder when she noticed the absence of her Macallan, but didn't say anything more. Instead she grabbed a bottle of something cheap and sat back down with a glass.

Beetlejuice's eyebrow rose. "No offense there babe, but aint' it a little early to be drinkin'?"

"No." She took a swig and said nothing more.

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow. "You always this terse?"

"Yes."

He shrugged his shoulders and stood up, moving next to her and sitting down. "Not even goin' there," He sighed dramatically. "But if you are going to drag it outta me, fine, I'll tell ya. I went lookin' around the neighborhood. You know, scopin' things out, finding the hottest joints to hit and whatnot. This place can get exciting if you're with the right people," His eyebrows did that wiggling thing and Lydia felt like smacking him in the face with her bottle, but thought against it; what a waste of liquor.

"Fascinating," Lydia said dryly, setting her drink down.

The ghost shrugged again and crossed his legs, taking another drag out of his cigarette. "We'll have to hit the town one night, jus' you an' me. We'll paint the town red."

Lydia gave Beetlejuice a hard look. "Not going to happen," She laughed out.

Beetlejuice's face fell. "And why not? How do you expect to loosen up if you don't go out and have a bit of fun once and a while?"

"Who said my idea of fun is anything like your idea of fun?" Lydia raised an eyebrow.

"Well hell, babes!" The ghost growled, throwing his cigarette away. "You're sittin' here drinkin' shit in the middle of the day and grumping around, what more evidence do you need?!"

Lydia grumbled and set down her drink, no longer that interested in it.

Beetlejuice sighed over-dramatically, smacking his head against the wall then sitting up suddenly. "Look, you gotta work with me here. I get you to loosen up and you let me out; that was the deal. Now how am I supposed to do that, if you won't even give me a shot?"

"Last time I checked, that's not what I agreed to," Lydia reminded. "You said you would help me deal with the…troubles I'm having in school, not turn me into some depraved party-going imbecile."

Beetlejuice looked exasperated. "Troubles in school? You get a few weird looks and you call those troubles? Nothing happens there, I've seen shit with more interesting lives!"

Lydia's eyes widened and slowly turned a shade darker. "You were spying on me…?" She sat up slowly.

Her drastic change in attitude chilled Beetlejuice as he suddenly realized what he had said. "No…definitely not…maybe…sorta…okay yes, technically, but it was only to see what I was getting myself into! I had to see what I was workin' with, here!"

Lydia sighed and moved towards her bedroom. "Just leave me alone, will you? I let you out for payment for helping me. What more do you want from me?"

Before she could grab the handle of her bedroom door, Beetlejuice was in front of her again. Lydia froze at their close distance and their eyes met. Luminous…Such brilliant green eyes.

"Doesn't work that way, Lyds," He graveled out.

Lydia shivered as the gruff intonation of his voice vibrated through her. It surprised her how deep his voice was, and how much it effected her. She tried to shake it off. "And why is that?" She spoke softly, suddenly feeling weak.

In that instant Lydia felt the rush of dizziness hit her head as her world spun. She found herself suddenly in a dip, with Beetlejuice looking down at her, and on the receiving end of a long, sloppy kiss. She couldn't breathe for several seconds, and when he finally relented, pulled her into a tight squeezing embrace.

"Because, I'm too much in _looove_ with you, to let you go!"

Lydia listened with satisfaction to Beetlejuice wailing out in pain as she kneed him in the groin.

"You're so fucking annoying," Lydia growled out, wiping her mouth clean, all previous thoughts vanishing. "Why the hell do you do that?"

Beetlejuice whimpered slightly, still cupping his injured jewels and looked at her. "That's low, babes, even for you."

Lydia sighed heavily. "It's called personal space, Beetlejuice. Either you learn to stay out of it, or get the hell out."

"Alright, alright," Beetlejuice cringed. "Jus' lay off those B-words, kay?" He sat up and pulled out another cigarette, just before he could bring it to his lips, Lydia grabbed it and stomped it into the floor.

"And no smoking in my apartment!"

Beetlejuice stared at her for several seconds, gaping like a fish out of water. His mouth moved open and closed until his eyes grew fierce and his gnarled teeth gnashed together.

"That's it!" He growled out, "You can call me names, treat me like dirt, hell, even kick me in the family stones, but no one, _no one _takes away my cigs!"

Lydia humphed and folded her arms. "I'm not keeping you here, you know. Why don't you just leave?"

"Maybe I will," Beetlejuice sneered.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"_Fine!"_

The last thing she saw was Beetlejuice pouting like a child, sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry at her before he disappeared from her apartment once again, leaving that stench of ozone.

Lydia rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. He acted like such a child. Then again, she was playing along right with him. Lydia groaned and collapsed onto her bed. Her lips still tingled where his touch lingered, and Lydia felt appalled by the sudden rush of color that hit her cheeks.

"A shower, a nice shower is what I need."

With that Lydia got up and made her way to the bathroom.

--

Well, damn. Beetlejuice blinked at the wall now facing him. He could just see the angry expression on Lydia's face before he disappeared back over the proverbial fence and into his house. His House. Beetlejuice cringed. He didn't know really where else to go. Maybe a bar. A nice, sleazy bar. When the cracked and otherwise grisly wall did nothing but stare back at him, the ghost muttered some curses before walking to his favorite armchair and plopping down. A thin line of dust flew off from impact.

Why was this bitch so uptight anyway? It's not like he did anything to her. Okay...yeah, maybe he made some stupid choices back when she was a kid, but that was done and over with, she didn't seem so emotionally destroyed over it. She acted like he ruined her life. Beetlejuice chuckled lightly at the thought. By the looks of her, her life was messed up way before he got into the picture. Still, she had no right treating him so bad. What did he do to deserve such a mouthful?

"Pshh, women." He grunted, pulling out an already lit cigarette from his pocket.

Beetlejuice looked around his chair until he spotted the old familiar glass bottle. Picking it up, he took a huge swig and sneered in disgust. That was another thing he hated about the Afterlife. Beetlejuice wasn't lying when he said the booze was awful. Nothing aged after death, including alcohol. The only good stuff he could get was in the living world, and he had to admit, Lydia did have a nice collection…

To tell the truth, Beetlejuice hadn't planned on staying the whole night. After Lydia forgot to send him back, he planned on finishing her bottle and then hitting the town. It had been years since the ghost had been Out and he wanted to take full advantage of Lydia's little mistake. However, he misjudged the effect the whiskey had on him, having been so long since he had anything half decent. So he found himself passed out on the couch like a drunken idiot.

Things did pay off however. He hadn't really expected it to work, but Little Lydia Deetz had signed his little agreement. He was now officially saved from his painfully boring afterlife in this dump. Well, so long as he kept up his end of the bargain, that is.

Lydia was an interesting character, he'd give her that. She was anti-social and awkward and hated to be around everyone else. Not to mention she was into all that freaky morbid shit. And death. Beetlejuice felt the tug of a smile hit his mouth. Yes, he had made a good choice when he had planned on marrying her. She was naïve and though she tried to hide it, desperate for attention. He could give her that. He would give her that and more.

Still there was something off about her. Beetlejuice had noticed it from the moment he met her. She wasn't just the typical emotional teenager who went through a dark phase in her life because she didn't get her way and it was convenient. He watched how she reacted during school, always tense, looking over her shoulder and avoiding people like they had the plague. No, there was something horribly off with Lydia Deetz, as if something had happened in her life that effected her so strongly that she completely desensitized herself from other people. Maybe he could get her to spill the beans, after all, he already got her this far.

The small smile on his face broke out into a fierce grin. Yes, she was easy to manipulate, her lack of people skills made her an easy target, especially to a professional like him. Still, he would need to put up his end of the bargain in order for the contract to be binding, and he sure as hell couldn't do that sitting here. Growling at his drink, Beetlejuice threw it over his chair, listening in satisfaction as it crashed into a pile of trash. With a sigh he stood up and brushed off his dirty suit. One more visit to her life wouldn't hurt, after all, it wasn't like she could see him if he didn't let her.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Life sure isn't fun, and it sure isn't fair, but since we all live through it, I guess all we can do is truck on. No real excuse, other than hectic holiday times. I'm also beginning to write another story, but I don't think I'll post this one until I'm pretty sure I know which direction I will be moving it in. Beetlejuice is just too fun to write about. Maybe it's his personality, how he's so utterly unafraid to show himself, his disgusting, carefree nature no matter how controversial it is. Whatever it is, I can't stop coming up with more ideas!

Enter Standard Disclaimer Here:

* * *

Chapter 4

With a heave, Lydia dragged herself from bed to the shower. Yesterday's events had been heavy on her mind and kept her from the congenial appeal of any form of sleep. She kept expecting the poltergeist to pop out at any given time and make some smart-ass remark or inappropriate comment. He hadn't shown up however, and Lydia spent most of the day and night looking over her shoulder in anxiety. She could have sent him back, yes, but Lydia honestly was hesitant. Like it or not, Lydia did strike a deal with him and even though she was loathe to admit it, she owed it to him to hold up her end of the bargain. She also didn't know what kind of repercussions the deal she made had. What consequences could she face if she went against their agreement? The stakes were too high to chance. Besides, even if there weren't any serious draw backs, she was certain that if she sent him back he probably would have spent the whole time following her around as a spectral gas, moving things or messing with her mirror and never giving her a minutes rest. At least this way he wasn't actually bothering her.

The thought made her worried, though. If he wasn't there bothering her, _what was he doing?_ Was he causing mayhem somewhere? Was he conning some other ghosts? Trying to marry other under-age living girls? Actually, she just assumed he was off getting drunk at some sleazy bar, or a strip club; somewhere probably disease-ridden and foul.

'As long as he is out of my hair right now,' Lydia thought as she entered her bathroom. She had classes all day and couldn't afford to think about what the ghost with questionable credentials was doing at the moment. She hadn't really meant to sign those papers he gave her, and she wouldn't have if he hadn't used his magic to _encourage_ her. She was stuck now, and she wasn't quite sure what to expect. He was erratic and out of control. Could she really trust him enough?

Of course not.

Lydia turned on the spray and stood underneath the water, careful not to get her hair wet. Beetlejuice was not to be trusted. He had helped her in the past, but at what price? What he had asked for was too much. Now, four years later, she was faced with him again. And what were his demands this time? Just to call him out, to let him go running across the globe without a leash. It seemed too easy, far too easy. There had to be a catch somewhere. Beetlejuice always had a scheme up his sleeve. Lydia just needed to figure out what it was.

Lydia sighed and quickly finished her shower. She had classes to get to, and these thoughts were only going to distract her. She would worry about the ghost when she got back. As she entered her bedroom, Lydia couldn't help but feel tense. The room felt colder than normal and again she felt like someone's eyes were on her. Looking about the room, she saw nothing. Nothing was out of place. Still uncomfortable, Lydia removed her towel and quickly got dressed. She made it to the kitchen before remembering that her coffee machine was on the fritz. Grumbling, Lydia grabbed an apple from the counter and went for the door. The feeling of unease never left her.

She arrived ten minutes before her class, just enough time to get in and find a seat. She could see out of the corner of her eye people watching her. Some people giggled, as normal, and Lydia pushed passed them to class. She always got weird looks and stares, they didn't really bother her. Yesterday had been a good day. She only got a few laughs and heard a few hushed comments under students' breath. No outward threats or anything happened. If you went around the campus, you would hear many of the rumors, some people less generous enough to wait until she was out of earshot.

To some she was a witch, to others she was the leader of an occult who regularly practiced voodoo and self-mutilation, and still others thought she did unmentionable things with dead bodies. It didn't bother her much; it kept people away from her. In fact, many times Lydia would play along with such rumors, just to see the disgusted, horrified looks on people's faces, or watch them freak when she tried to cast a spell on them. As long as they left her the hell alone, she didn't give a damn.

Lydia entered the class and walked up to her usual seat when she noticed a familiar face sitting right next to her usual spot. Her name was Bruna and she was from Greece…or Poland, or something, Lydia didn't remember. All she knew was that Bruna had a huge smile and a thick accent. She had choppy dark hair and green eyes and seemed to like Lydia, despite the things always said about her. If Lydia had been at all a social person, she could see herself being friends with her.

"Hi," Bruna smiled as she took her seat.

"Hi," Lydia answered softly.

"How was your weekend?"

"Fine,"

"Oh, that is good."

"…"

"My weekend was nice. I had good time. I went ice-skating down at the ring with Rachel. It was fun."

Bruna usually seemed to never let Lydia's unresponsiveness get to her. She prattled on in her heavy accent, every now and then butchering a few words to the point Lydia had to stop her train of thought to think what she was trying to say, and when she finally did, was already lost in the conversation Bruna was trying to have.

"My brother sent me some photos from back home, too. I should show you. You would like them."

Lydia nodded her head. Bruna may be a little on the eccentric side, but just staying quiet and listening to her, Lydia knew they had some of the same interests. Bruna usually wore long covering clothing, and always carried around this wool-netted shawl, that Lydia had to admit, she was somewhat jealous of. She also had some kind of fixation for spiders. In addition to having some as pets; she always seemed to have some form of garment or accessory with one of the arachnids on it. Today it was in the form of a pair of silver earrings.

"Are you going to be at the party?"

Lydia lazily turned her head and gave Bruna a bored look. "Party?"

"Yeah, the one in _The Boiler Room _tonight. It is all the rage in these days."

"It's rave," Lydia corrected on impulse, then got quiet as she realized what Bruna was asking. "Oh…" she mumbled staring at the books and notes in front of her. "No, no I won't be going."

"Oh…" Bruna looked like she was going to press further, but at the sudden sound of the professor clearing his throat Bruna immediately became silent and prepared herself for class. It was the extent of the relationship she had with the girl, just small little, basically one-sided conversations here and there. If Lydia put in any effort, they probably could become good friends.

--

Lydia thought she would die from boredom by the time classes were finally over with. The excruciating day made Lydia feel like she had aged to one hundred and fifty. She wanted nothing more than to huddle up in her bed and not get out for at least a week. Screw the report she had due, she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. The truth was she hated school. The only reason she enrolled in college was because her father was funding part of it, and for the fact that it was _expected_ of her.

As Lydia made it to the parking lot to find her little car, she noticed the crowd of sophomores standing by the gate that suddenly grew quiet at her appearance. They all stopped and looked at her. Immediately Lydia knew something was definitely wrong. Some of them were smirking, and one of the girls, she identified as Rosalyn, snickered. Lydia clenched her bag to her tightly, hoping she could make it to the car before anything happened.

She crossed through the parking lot and sighed when she noticed none of them were following her. Fucking bastards were just trying to unnerve her. It wouldn't be the first time they stalked her, just to frighten her. Lydia let out a sigh when she spotted her car, but suddenly stopped in her tracks when she got a better view. Her books, bag, and pencils fell with an unmistakable clatter to the paved street. Her car was an old little Honda, a dark green color with a bent fender. It was simple and effective, but not perfect. Lydia's eyes hardened as she stared at it, or more correctly, at the spray paint across the hood.

The word was written in thick, ugly yellow paint, under which rested a large swastika.

'_Jude'_

Lydia's knuckles turned white as she stared, biting her lip and trying not to let the tears spring forth from her eyes. Hearing the jeering laughter from behind her from the culprits, Lydia couldn't control it and threw herself into her car and flashed out of the parking lot as fast as she could, leaving her books sprawled across the parking lot. Her knuckles squeezed the steering wheel tighter as she drove, and her misty eyes began to tear up.

--

Jewish? Lydia was _Jewish_? Of all the things Beetlejuice had expected, this was by far the last thing he was thinking about. Little Lydia was just full of surprises, wasn't she?

Beetlejuice had haunted her all the day, watching her safely under the secrecy of ghostly invisibility. Her life was boring and dull. After he returned from his brooding yesterday, he found her sitting by a desk doing some school work. After that snore session, she began sketching while playing a lame black and white movie in the background, Bucket of Blood or something equally cheesy sounding. She heated something in her microwave to eat for dinner and then drank until midnight, then promptly passed out in bed. It was downright painful to sit through and on a few occasions, had to stop himself from appearing just to see _something _happen. Didn't this girl have a life? Friends? Didn't she do anything crazy or spontaneous when no one was around? Talk to herself when no one was there? Have any weird habits? Walk around her apartment naked? (He sincerely hoped for that last one) There was absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. It was boring. Painful. Painfully boring.

The highlight of the event was watching her change. He didn't know why Lydia preferred to cover herself with such baggy, unflattering black dresses; she had a smoking body. He even sat through the torment of her classes, thinking at least maybe he could learn something _interesting_. Though Beetlejuice really doubted he would ever need to know what the fuck an arabesque was, or who Rembrandt was. Didn't that have to do with that teeth-cleansing ritual or something?

Her little friend was more interesting. The foreigner. He recognized her accent as Italian immediately. Cute little thing, and poor Lydia flailed around in the conversation like a cripple thrown into a pool.

He was about to give up and leave, forget about Lydia and all her dull uninteresting-ness, but the deal with the car struck him solidly like a punch to the crotch. He thought she was over-reacting when she said she had problems with school, but as he looked at her shattered face when she saw what was so cruelly smeared on her car, he couldn't help but feel a tug of pity for her.

Beetlejuice could remember bits of his past when he was alive; how his family was shunned and accused of starting the plague simply because of their religious practices, and how they had to move from place to place to avoid bereavement. The discrimination he had to face just to survive, resorting to stealing and swindling to keep going. To be hated by everyone. It wasn't his fault his family didn't suffer from the plague. He clenched his fists tighter at the memories and what they were causing him to feel. He shouldn't be feeling anything for this dame, especially not sympathy. But as he watched the tears form and fall solidly down her pale face, he felt something in him crack and he knew he couldn't just abandon this girl.

And so when she came into her apartment, he followed and made himself solid, visible. When she barreled through the small crackerjack-box size room, tears falling uncontrollably from her sorrowful face, he could say nothing. And as she turned to him, finally noticing him through those cloudy, anguished eyes, such utter devastation and hope brimmed into her that she ran to him, falling against his dusty chest and crying inconsolably.

"_Do something_," She whimpered loudly, sniffing hard and hiccupping. She was trembling, "_Please, help me. Do something_."

His arms rose uselessly around her, hugging her into his chest that offered no warmth. She melted into him regardless, crying bitterly and hard. What the fuck was happening to him? His heart wrenched and he didn't know why. Beetlejuice always knew he had a soft spot for crying women. It was a great excuse to comfort them and score some pity sex. But as he stared down at the trembling dark head of the girl in his arms, he could feel nothing but a dull ache and a hollow clenching pain in his gut. He had seen many faces of Lydia before, but all of them were iced with a hard and unflinching connotation. For the first time, he saw her in a position he instinctually knew no one else had ever seen. He was seeing her in weakness. Strong proud Lydia bending and snapping like a taunt rubber band. She always had to appear strong, never flinch in the eyes of others, but she was willingly going to him for comfort… All of a sudden his opinion of this one girl changed. He could no longer see her as a victim to his newest hoax, couldn't seem to find any thoughts of dashing her wishes into pieces for his own benefits, didn't see her as the strange misfit teenager he thought she was when he first met her. He saw her for what she really was; an abandoned, miserable woman who wanted help.

And by Gods, he couldn't deny her.

--

Lydia awoke several hours later wondering why her throat felt tight and her eyes stung. All too quickly the memories of earlier that day caught up to her and she felt the familiar tightening in her throat. The sophomores. Her car. She wanted to bundle herself up in her bedding and never see the light of day again. The soft touch of her quilt brought little comfort as she snuggled into the bed. It was humiliating. Instead, Lydia sat upright when she did not recall coming to bed. In fact, most times she had painfully humiliating experiences with school or work; she drank herself into submission and passed out on the sofa, not in bed. Carefully looking about just in case, Lydia did not find any of her favorite bottled mixtures anywhere in sight. So how did she get into bed? All she remembered doing was rushing from the school parking lot as quickly as she could, coming home and going into hysterics when she saw…

Oh.

Oh, boy.

Beetlejuice. That was the element in the factor she had forgotten. When she had stampeded through her apartment, the trouble-making ghost was standing there staring at her. …And she had run to him with tears in her eyes. She had _cried_ to him, _begged _him even. Oh, god, oh god no. If it were possible, Lydia felt even more mortified. Lydia had never cried in front of anyone in her entire life, preferring to have her weak moments endured in her bedroom with only herself and (later) her vodka to drown in. She had shown a ghost, who was every bit of a con-artist in ways to screw people over, her weakness. Not only did she deface herself even further in front of him, but had all but given him all the incentive he needed to crash her into tiny pieces.

Feeling even worse than before, Lydia groaned loudly and got out of bed, no longer finding solace in the place that seemed to smother her with bad notions. She dragged herself from her room and headed straight towards the kitchenette. She wanted tea, or maybe vodka, she couldn't decide.

Lydia felt herself walking on her tip toes, careful not to alert the ghost, if he was even still present, of her position. Was he still there? Lydia didn't know why, but she knew he was. When he was solidly around, he let off this distinct feeling. The air around her was colder, the hairs on her arm stood up, Goosebumps gave birth upon her flesh and the unmistakable smell lingered there. It was quite odd actually, that Beetlejuice didn't smell anywhere near as foul as he looked like he should smell. Rather than smelling like rot and decay, Beetlejuice let off the smell of dust, tongue oil, and damp wood. There was also that stench of ozone that followed him whenever he casted that magic of his. It wasn't all together a bad smell… it was rather like a library that had been flooded and never attended to. Years of history and hard work ruined under the effects of neglect and lack of care. A good comparison, Lydia decided; Beetlejuice was probably well versed in many things she could never dream of ever learning in her life time, but all wasted away on his cavalier nature and carelessness.

As she walked closer to her kitchen, her hearing picked up the hum of her television and what sounded like moaning. Curiously Lydia abandoned previous notions about tea and walked into the living room. The site that greeted her made her scrunch her face in disgust.

"Pig," She growled out, watching the heaving chest of an incredibly breasty woman bounce up and down on the TV. "Sexual grotesquery."

The ghost, who was lounging quite comfortably on her couch, looked up at her with a grin. "I gotta say, the twentieth century definitely has better entertainment values. Did you know you have _sixteen _different channels of _this_?"

Lydia looked suddenly appalled. "I don't even have cable." She collapsed in the seat next to him and began searching for her remote.

He sat up with a start, pulling his muddy boots off of her coffee table and leaving noticeable prints. "You _didn't_…nothin' I couldn't change," Here Beetlejuice smirked wryly.

Lydia ignored his comment and, not finding her remote, gave up and stared ahead at the bobbing bimbo on screen. She really never saw the entertainment in watching these things most people did, but anything was distracting enough to keep her from her previous thoughts. How should she respond to him now? After seeing her so weak, how can she possibly bring up a subject like that?

"Her boobs are obviously fake," Lydia grumbled, trying to hide her weakness. The best thing to do, she realized, was to pretend it never happened. Maybe he would drop it and forget all about it.

Beetlejuice was silent and looked contemplatively at the screen. His eyes danced up and down the figure on screen with a look a doctor would when studying a patient's chart. "Think so?" He mumbled.

"Yeah," She replied plainly.

Beetlejuice shrugged and sat back comfortably, and Lydia wondered why she suddenly felt increasingly _less_ tense while sitting on the sofa with him…while watching _porn_ no less_._

Lydia grew red as it suddenly hit her and she stood up, walking towards her small kitchen briskly. "Whatever, it's just another sick human perversion that I will never understand. Why the hell would a woman willfully cut up her own body? Is the world really that superficial?"

She heard the dry laugh of Beetlejuice as turned off the TV with no more than a blink of his eye. Almost seconds later she felt a breath by her ear and tensed up. She hated when he did that.

"A little self conscious, are we?"

Lydia bristled and turned abruptly, fixing the poltergeist with a hot glare. "I'll have you know, I may be small but—" And here she stopped dead as she realized what she had just done.

Beetlejuice threw his head back and cackled humorously. Lydia, completely flustered and embarrassed for walking into the ghost's obvious trap, turned and went about digging into her fridge for dinner.

"Aw, don't worry babe, I love ya just the way you are."

"Don't say that," Lydia said through pursed lips.

"Say what?"

"That… that thing about _love_. You don't mean it."

Beetlejuice shrugged and leaned back, seemingly floating into the air. He held his hands up in a defensive manner. "Caught me, babe. Can't get nothin' passed you. Love's only for a bunch of losers, nothin' but a bunch of fairytale horse crock anyway."

"For once we agree on something," Lydia said dryly, finally deciding on having some leftover noodles she made the other night.

"And what the hell is that shit?" Beetlejuice touched down and stuck his face almost completely into the bowl of her noodles to get a better smell of it.

Disgusted, Lydia pushed him out of the way. "It's dinner. Don't like it, don't eat it."

"You ain't eatin' that," Beetlejuice stuck up his nose and leaned back on his heels.

Lydia glared angrily at him. "Oh? And who died and made you ruler of my life?"

She watched as the ghost snorted. "Like I said before kid, we're hittin' the town."

"I'm not a kid." Lydia growled out upon instinct, and then reviewing what he said, she glared at him. "And didn't I tell you I didn't want to go?"

"So you like to live like a fuckin' hermit crab, big deal," Beetlejuice went on, completely ignoring her. "But as long as we have this deal goin' on, I am going to see _some _action, and you're comin'!"

"I am _not _going anywhere. I already told you; I don't like parties." Lydia went back to her noodles, fishing some out onto a plate.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes, and Lydia watched in surprise as her noodles, including her bowl, plate and fork, vanished completely.

"Hey!"

She turned to berate him, only to be met with his powerful gaze. "Damn, C'mon and face it, babe. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Drinking yourself sick every night? Eventually you'll wind up dead, or even worse, a crazy ol' cat lady who only gets off on ordering from her latest issue of '_Cuddly Cat Collectables_.'" He finished with a highly irritated ring in his voice.

Lydia sighed and ran her fingers through the loose strands of her hair. "If I go with you, will you promise not to harass me anymore about it?"

"No promises, toots," Beetlejuice grinned. "But, I'll try to control myself. I do get a bit… _excited_, heh."

Her eyes danced anxiously around her, not really seeing anything, just going over the many reasons she shouldn't go and what things could possibly get screwed up. "I…I don't know…I don't really feel up to it tonight…today…" and her voice dried up in her throat as she involuntarily brought up the very subject she was trying to avoid.

Beetlejuice seemed to understand what she was thinking and Lydia hated it. He shouldn't have to understand. He'll only mock her because of it. She looked away as a sudden tidal wave of shame and embarrassment nearly knocked her over. What would he say now? Would he laugh? Would he call her weak? Pathetic? Would he agree with them? Call her another stupid Jew?_ A Kike? _

"…Don't even worry 'bout that babes," Came his raspy voice, and Lydia was surprised at how low and serious it was. It made her shiver again, and she could basically hear the sly grin in his words. "It's _aaall_ takin' care of."

Turning to face him with strength she didn't know she possessed, Lydia stared into the eyes of the poltergeist and only then realized how close they had gotten.

"What did…?" She couldn't help but voice out.

And here Beetlejuice gave a grin that would make any criminal mastermind proud. "Don't scare and tell, remember?"

His eyebrow wiggled suggestively, and Lydia suddenly found the strength to wrench from his close contact. Turning her back, Lydia grabbed her shoulders and sighed.

"If…If I go, will you promise never to bring that up _again_?"

Beetlejuice's brows furrowed, upset at the sudden swift change in direction and her somber expression. "What's the big deal…? I just—"

"Promise me," She grit out in such a forceful tone, Beetlejuice couldn't help but fold.

"Sure, sure thing sweet heart. Anything ya want." He could see something about the fact that he helped her upset her. But what was the big deal? Didn't she want him to help her? Wasn't that the plan? What the hell was her problem with him now?

Her silence was unsettling, but he wasn't about to blow this opportunity because of some weird sensitive female thing. He quickly brushed off her eerily silent self and in a flash grabbed her to him and grinned widely.

"So waddaya say, babes? Ready to hit the big town? I got on my dancing shoes and I'm hot an' wired and ready to go!"

"Sure, let's go." The words fell off her lips with all the grace of a drunkard on a tightrope.

Beetlejuice ignored it and squeezed her tight. "Hold on, babes."

"What…?" He only saw her dazed confused expression before he tore a hole into the fabric of space and teleported them to the destination only he knew.

* * *

For all those curious, _Jude_ is a term for a Jewish person, and is often most recognisable as the patch the Jewish people were given during the holocaust. Anyone can realize the pain this causes. I have friends who were victims of antisemitic induced vandalism and I can tell you how badly this hurts. A bit of trivia for you all; Winona Ryder, the actress who plays Lydia, is Jewish.

And yes, I wrote Beetlejuice as being Jewish, because I thought it sounded hilarious to hear Beetlejuice say "nosh" in a thick Jewish accent in the movie. And one more thing, soarry for the multiple posts; document manager was being screwy.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I, The Sweet Suffering, do here by declare no ownership over anything Beetle-related. No movie do I own, no characters do I own. Well, I own a copy of the movie, one that teased me with only a handful of episodes from the cartoon...when the hell are they going to put them all on DVD? I'm getting annoyed by this teasing!

* * *

Chapter 5

The room spun around her and Lydia's mind could barely process what was happening before they were inexplicably gone. Lydia could feel herself floating somewhere as everything around her seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. Colors meshed together and blurred, but no sounds could be heard. It all happened in a period of three seconds, but Lydia felt the light-headed attack almost like it went on for hours. The room suddenly materialized around them, colors fading back into their boundaries and sound was reintroduced.

Her ears popped.

They arrived in a cramped little space that was bright and yellow. Lydia had to flinch at the brightness for a moment in order to get used to the light. Her fingers ran across the close wall. The cubical wall was cold to touch and made of metal. The air was scented with a powerful smell and was that the sound of water running? All of a sudden Lydia's foot slipped from the odd object it was resting on into something wet. Dull realization hit her and Lydia widened her eyes and stared in disbelief, then anger.

"You teleported us into a bathroom?" She growled in exasperation.

Beetlejuice took on a defensive position and backed up as much as the small stall they shared would allow. "Hey! Would you rather I zap us into the middle of the party, hm? Or how about a busy street corner?" There was a gleam in his eyes as he raised his dirty fingers to snap, and Lydia quickly shook her head.

"No, no…God, don't do that," She then groaned and lifted her foot out of the toilet bowl. "Let's just get out of here, and warn me before you decide to rip me through time and space again."

Beetlejuice shrugged and went to open the stall door and Lydia followed. Her foot made squishing noises as she walked, her shoe and sock as well as the edges of her skirt were completely soaked. As they went towards the door, Lydia smacked a mortified hand over her face as they passed a man doing his business in the urinal. He gave the pair an odd look and Beetlejuice couldn't seem to pass it up. Grinning widely, Beetlejuice slapped the man on the back, chuckling some dirty little lie. The young man by the urinal turned and winked at her. Miserable and unbelievably embarrassed, Lydia just sped up and walked out of the bathroom.

As she stepped outside the world previously unknown to the female species, Lydia immediately had to get her eyes to adjust to the drastic change. Where the bathroom had been bright, here it was dark. The place had dimmed lights for atmosphere, soft blues and reds and some golds. There was music playing in the background, just loud enough to set the mood and chatter warmed the place up.

"I hate it already," Lydia mumbled, staring at the closest laughing couple and glaring at them.

It was just then that Beetlejuice stood next to her, smacking one of his heavy hands onto her dark shoulder. "Aw, you're too uptight. We need ta loosen you up a bit, know what I'm sayin'?"

"Yeah," Lydia grumbled, "Whatever you say."

She recognized the place, even though she was only there one other time in her life. It was _The Boiler Room_, the hottest place the college students hit. She had come here one time on a whim when writing a thesis paper for psychology class on human behavioral patterns. She wasn't pleased to be here, remembering what Bruna had told her. Half of her fellow students were there, and judging by the odd, surprised looks she was getting, some of them recognized her.

It wasn't until she felt Beetlejuice's hands on her shoulders did she remember his presence. It upset her how much he had taken to getting into her personal space and touching her. She didn't like to be touched, and Beetlejuice had probably touched her more times in the past two days than anyone else in the past two years.

Shrugging off his hands, Lydia turned to regard her spectral companion. He had this big smirk on his face, a look she was strangely becoming accustomed to, and gestured to their left with a nod of his head.

"How 'bout a drink, huh? Get you to let loose, let you hair down, cast off your inhibitions for a bit." He was already steering her in the direction of the bar before Lydia could say a word.

She let him drag her over to a counter and pushed her down onto one of the stools, all the while Lydia held her miserable expression. She looked like she'd rather be anywhere but. Beetlejuice took a seat, not before lifting and throwing a boy off the seat next to her. The kid gave a garbled complaint, but when he got a glimpse of Beetlejuice, his face went pale and he walked swiftly away.

"So, what can I get you two?"

Lydia looked up when the hoarse and otherwise, unpleasant voice addressed them. Behind the bar counter was a rather short pudgy woman with a white button down shirt. Her curly brown hair just reached her shoulders and she had her hands placed haughtily on her big hips. Beetlejuice began to order his drink and Lydia suddenly felt panic. She usually avoided the bar scene, mainly because she was underage and couldn't risk getting in trouble. She began to sweat slightly when the woman then turned to her.

"I don't suppose you have any ID, do ya kid?" She spoke with a haughty raise of a brow.

Nervous sweat blossomed on her brow. "Well–"

"Course she does, ya really think I'd bring along some youngin' to this _fine _establishment?" Beetlejuice snorted rather rudely as he gestured to their surroundings. He even had the nerve to look offended, even though he was lying off his ass.

"But –" Lydia tried to find words.

"Don't ya remember? You grabbed it off the counter as we left and slipped it in your back pocket." He pushed on, ignoring her; then he turned towards the barkeeper and huffed like something was humorous. "Kids these days… so damn forgetful."

She knew he was lying, especially since the skirt she was wearing had no pockets to speak of. Even as he said this, she felt something suddenly materialize in her hand. She sat up stiff, feeling the slight sizzling of his magic. She turned her startled, questioning eyes on her ghost and he merely smiled and raised his brow, enviting her play the rest.

"Oh…so I did," Lydia spoke nervously. She reached behind her like she was pulling something out and showed her new ID to the woman.

The barkeeper took the ID and looked at it intently, and then at Lydia's face, who was frozen in panic. What if she found a flaw in it and knew it was fake? She didn't actually look at what Beetlejuice did before she handed it to the woman.

"Very well," The woman huffed and handed back the card.

"She'll have what I'm havin'." Beetlejuice rang out and the barkeeper nodded and turned away.

Lydia didn't know what Beetlejuice had ordered and she didn't care at the moment. Instead her eyes fell onto her hot off the press fake ID. There was a picture of her on it, looking as dark and morbid as she always had; the only difference was her name and age. According to the card, she was twenty two. Lydia's brow twitched as she stared at her name.

_Lydia Geuse_

"You know it's illegal to supply minors with alcohol, right?" She grit out under her breath when the bar maid was out of earshot.

"Hey, you're legal in some countries, what's the difference?" He shrugged and drummed his fingers against the table, a sign of boredom or nervousness, though she seriously doubted the latter.

Her eyes fell to his fidgeting hand and she noticed how pasty his hands really were, just like the rest of him. His nails were long and dirty and he wore a rather large ring on his left index finger. It wasn't until then she noticed the watches. She blinked several times as she spotted four ticking bands around one single wrist.

She opened her mouth to ask what such a purpose was, but she fell silent when the woman returned with their drinks.

"Drink up."

For the first time since Lydia could remember, she didn't feel like drinking anything. Instead, she just stared at the liquid in her glass, not even sure of what it was. It was odd. Lydia used to drown herself in her drinks; it helped her blot out her own inadequacies and turmoils. It just felt weird feeling as relaxed as she did with a ghost like Beetlejuice. In all rational she should find herself tense and edgy. However, she found it was hard to be tense when around someone as laid back and carefree as Beetlejuice. And now here she was, sitting at a counter, like one would with good old buddies. Lydia rolled her eyes.

She took a nervous look up at the ghost as he tipped back his drink. The ice chinked as he moved the glass, and as he pulled away he winked at her and grinned. Not expecting such a thing, Lydia blanched somewhat, her face heating up slightly.

Her eyes immediately fell back to her own drink. It was a dark amber color and had a rather nice aroma to it. Still, she didn't bring it up for a taste. Why was Beetlejuice being too nice to her? She couldn't remember the last time she had been "out on the town," and it only then occurred to her that that was what this was. She was out with Beetlejuice. Suddenly Lydia's face grew white and her stomach dropped at the realization. Was this supposed to be his sick idea of a date? It couldn't be. He already stole her first kiss, and her first date couldn't be with an insanely old dead guy with a name like Beetlejuice. No, it had to just be a friendly outing. She wanted to roll her eyes at the thought. Yes, because Beetlejuice seemed like the kind of guy who always took his female acquaintances out with only friendly intentions in mind.

Again her eyes flashed to Beetlejuice to see he was busy staring at the seat next to him, which suddenly became occupied with a woman. This time she really did roll her eyes and turn away from the scene, deciding to taste her drink. Rum, she realized.

Lydia suddenly heard an outraged cry then the sound of smacking. Turning her head, Lydia burst into laughter seeing the brunette previously sitting next to the ghost get up and walk away in a huff. Beetlejuice's eyes turned and narrowed on her as she continued to laugh. "You…you really don't know how to approach women, do you?" She chortled, covering her mouth to hide her snicker.

He gave a slight growl and stretched his arms. "Bah, you chicks are just so damn particular, don't know what ya want. Not my fault you aren't open to the experience." His eyes glistened and they turned to her.

"Whatever," Lydia snorted and took another sip. The noise had gotten steadily louder as an upbeat song began to play. People screamed, howled and made general asses of themselves. She tensed and began breathing a bit harder. This was too surreal, and Lydia all at once felt overloaded. This wasn't her, and she let some ill-mannered ghost drag her to some lousy party filled with drunken immature college students. Sitting her glass down, she let out a huff and stood up, ignoring the ghost who gave her a puzzled look.

"Hey! Where ya goin'?" He asked with a raise of a brow.

"To take a piss," She spat out crudely. "Do you mind?"

Beetlejuice stared at her and blinked, then shrugged. "Can't stop the call of nature." He didn't even give her a backwards glance as she began walking steadily back to where she remembered the bathrooms.

She had to push her way through the crowded area, having someone more than once push back, before she finally spotted the public restroom. Heaving a sigh, Lydia pushed open the sliding door and walked in.

She was greeted by the sound of echoing giggles, followed by hushed voices, then silence. Looking about the room – which she noticed boasted a much more floral wallpaper and perfume than the men's room- Lydia glared emptily at the girls standing by the sinks staring at her. As she walked over to the sinks, she could feel their eyes on her and the intense silence that haunted her with a vengeance. They all stood there with nasty smirks on their faces, quickly capped their mascara and lipstick containers, and with a tittering laughter that made Lydia want to smash their faces into the wall, left the bathroom with denoting shouts of, "Freak!" in her direction.

Lydia recognized at least one of the girls from her photography class, but ignored them and turned the spigot. She stood there, staring at the water as it gushed out and spiraled down the drain. She was out of her element here, and felt the effects of the uncomfortable atmosphere surround and choke her. Lydia always knew she was a freak; she never enjoyed the things all the other women and men seemed to. She hated being in wide, busy areas, hated parties and carnivals and restaurants. For a while she thought she was agoraphobic, but got rid of the idea as ridiculous when she realized it wasn't that she was afraid, she just despised it for everything she was worth. She hated people. She hated associating with them. She saw everyone around as fake and phony, putting up a mask to hide the flaws they refused to let show through. Why did people feel the need to cover up what makes them unique? Why was she tormented because she refused to hide her faults?

She knew she was no fun to be around. Lydia had been asked out on dates before, but she turned down every one of them, reading them like an open book. The word fornication was written all over their faces, and she seemed to be an absolute magnet to all the pathetic gothic punks on the planet. She thought they all looked utterly ridiculous wearing make-up, and thought they were all immature for the way they dressed and acted. She wanted nothing to do with them.

But Beetlejuice… Lydia continued to stare at the water as the steam rose and fogged the mirror. Beetlejuice didn't hide who he was, did he? Beetlejuice seemed to wear his flaws like a badge of honor, shoving them on people and telling them to go fuck themselves if they didn't like it. She admired him for that. She wished she could be just as outspoken. Maybe that's why she never really feared him. Maybe that's the reason she summoned him, and why she agreed to going out to this blasphemous event with him. He was beyond creepy and she loved all the nasty tricks he could pull. She wondered if she could convince him to pull something tonight to amuse her.

Lydia cupped her hands and splashed some water on her face. She had almost smiled at that last idea and she needed to think things out straight. Beetlejuice couldn't be her friend. He was only after one thing when it came to her, and she couldn't let herself open up to him, otherwise he will walk over top of her and destroy her, just like everyone else. Then again, maybe she was too harsh in judging him. He had never done serious harm to her, and while she knew his motives, he didn't deny them, so she knew where to stand when it came to him. She should be a little more polite she supposed, and accept the fact that Beetlejuice did choose to share this evening with her versus someone else.

After one last splash, Lydia turned off the faucet and went looking for some paper towels, only to spot a hand blower. Lydia frowned as realization hit her. With her face dripping wet, Lydia made her way to the door, wiping her face off with her long black sleeves. Not seeing where she was going, Lydia bumped into someone on the other side o the door, who gasped out at almost being knocked over.

Removing her arms from her face, Lydia stared down at the girl she accidentally bumped.

"Oh, I sorry, I wasn't watching where I am going."

Lydia could recognize that broken English anywhere.

"Lydia?" Sure enough, Bruna stood there, an utterly shell shocked look on her face. She no doubt was trying to come to some sort of explanation as to why the dark girl was there.

The foreigner smiled suddenly and fixed the bandanna on her head. "I didn't think you would be coming."

"Yeah, well, I decided to come at the last minute, someone dragged me here..." Lydia mumbled, looking away slightly.

She stood there awkwardly, not sure how to respond, and turned her head to try and spot the bar, where the poltergeist was sitting. She realized with a wave of annoyance that he was nowhere to be seen; the stools they had occupied were now the seats of some other party goers.

Bruna distracted her again, placing her dark blue polished fingers on her shoulder. "Someone? Is it boy? Did you bring a mate?"

"_Date_,"Lydia turned her head back to face the brunette and frowned. "No," she stated definitively and turned back in the bar's direction, "He's just–"

Her eyes landed on the vision of black and white stripes. He was very easy to spot thanks to his suit's flamboyant design. He was casually leaning against the wall, speaking with someone who he couldn't really make out. She did however, notice how short her skirt was, and the mischievous glint in Beetlejuice's eyes as he spoke with her.

For some reason, Lydia felt betrayed a bit and frowned. "I need some air." She mumbled and began walking away.

She didn't really notice Bruna following her until she heard the clatter of her thick heeled soles on the sidewalk outside.

"Why do you go? Have I upsetting you?"

Lydia had finally stopped walking when she came to the railing. It was much quieter outside, and the fresh air did feel really good against her face. 'Finally, some peace.' Lydia felt relief rush over her at finally getting out of the stuffy populated bar. The familiar dark silence welcomed her like an old faithful lover. She didn't really know why she was so upset with seeing Beetlejuice talk to some chick. She wasn't jealous, she just felt… left out. He left her the minute she was out of his vision to chase some skirt and left her in a place he knew she hated, all alone. The wind blew in her face slightly, and Lydia almost forgot Bruna's presence had she not come to stand next to her.

"No," Lydia suddenly remembered to speak, barely remembering the foreign student's question – and barely understanding it. "You didn't upset me. I just have… a lot on my mind."

She could see Bruna out of her peripheral vision as she stared at the grass that met the sidewalk. It was trimmed right up to the cement in perfect order. Not a blade out of place. Lydia hated it.

"Oh…" Bruna's answer seemed more forced than anything, like she didn't know how to respond to Lydia once she finally got her to say more than two words. Lydia didn't blame her either; no one seemed to.

"Bridgette and Rosalyn aren't here." She spoke some time later. In fact, Lydia had completely zoned off, being captured in all the terrible things that happened today. She turned her head to observe her unwanted company, her black hair falling in her face and creating a dark shroud.

"Who?" She replied rather rudely, not understanding why Bruna spoke the names like it was obvious who they were. Lydia wasn't one for drama, and she didn't particularly care if some of the "cool" people showed up or not. Lydia wanted to be left alone, but just didn't know how to voice it without offending the only person who seemed nice to her.

"The sophomores. They are usually joining the party and singing terrible karaoke." Bruna's face scrunched in displeasure and Lydia was suddenly hit with a thought.

Sophomores… her eyes went wide as she finally put the names to faces. They were two of the students that vandalized her car. Anger burned in her and Lydia subconsciously clenched her fists. She hoped they were dying in a ditch somewhere, rotting away in a piss hole. Cruel things to think, but it was nothing less Lydia thought they deserved. They tormented her ever since she started attending college. She clenched her teeth before replaying Bruna's words. They didn't show up? By Bruna's testament, they were usually regular visitors to such detestable affairs such as this one. Could it be that whatever Beetlejuice did was the cause?

"_Don't scare and tell, remember?"_

She could practically hear his words echoing in her ears. Lydia's heart thumped faster with the implications. She felt excited, pleased and thoroughly satisfied. She knew Beetlejuice was the cause behind all this, and the thought that someone finally got what was coming to them made her inexplicably jovial. Could he do this with all her enemies? Would she feel this level of power and satisfaction very time? It made her tingle, and her once barren face broke out into a small devious smile.

"Who cares," Lydia grumbled out bitterly. "As long as they aren't here, drudging up my time, I don't care what happens to them." With these words, Lydia felt she had enough company for one night and turned to walk down the sidewalk. Bruna seemed to have caught her sudden dark turning mood and decided not to follow. Instead, she stared at Lydia's trailing back as she wandered down the sidewalk in the freezing winds by herself. Such an odd girl she was.

---

Beetlejuice had been having the time of his afterlife. Well, maybe not, but close enough for now. After having nothing to do for close to three years, Beetlejuice thoroughly planned on making it up as soon as possible. He had seen better bars, ones not so ruined by college students who only liked drinking cheap shit, but this was closest and he figured maybe Lydia would feel more comfortable in a place that had people around her age, and this bar was definitely targeted at the youngin's.

Beetlejuice suddenly remembered the dreary girl and perked his head up to try and find her. He completely forgot about her for a while. After she went to the bathroom, he saw some woman in the corner smiling at him. One thing he loved about bars is that the alcohol always impaired people's vision and judgment. Hey, he'll admit, he ain't no Adonis, but to this chick, he was good enough.

She said she liked his suit. He wasn't aware of how much time exactly passed after that. They shared a few drinks and laughs, and he had even gotten far enough to grope a little before a large burly man came out of nowhere and decked him square in the face, screaming about touching his property.

"_Hey! She came on ta me!"_

After the stars cleared and his drinks settled back down into his gut, Beetlejuice thought that that was his signal to get back on track. Lydia must be out of the crapper by now, right?

Lumbering back over to the bar, Beetlejuice frowned when he noticed it was packed, and not one of the people sitting there was his little pessimistic paramour. Had she not gotten back yet? No, she had to, it has been… Beetlejuice took a sudden look at his watches and cringed. Oh, yes, it had been a long time since he left, thirty-three minutes to be exact. Grumbling to himself at his absent mindedness, the poltergeist began searching for Lydia through the messes of writhing bodies and blaring music. It was rather difficult; the inside of the bar was dark, and Lydia could be blending in anywhere.

It took him a good fifteen minutes before he came to the realization that she was no longer in the bar at all. He had officially lost her and Beetlejuice could have kicked himself for his stupidity. He was trying to teach her how to loosen up, and there he goes ditching her for some little chit who didn't have half the ass Lydia had. On a whim, Beetlejuice went towards the doors. Stepping outside, Beetlejuice was assaulted by the chilling winds. Being dead, the cold didn't bother him, but he knew the living still had the problem.

He knew Lydia hated parties, so in one last ditch effort to find her, he would check outside. His assumption was correct. Walking a bit out onto the lawn, Beetlejuice could just make out the silhouette of a figure in a dark skirt. Not wasting time walking, he suddenly materialized next to her. He stayed quiet as he observed her, half wondering if she noticed he was even there. He didn't dare bring attention to him if she didn't, for he knew he was in for one hell of a chewing out.

He took the brief time to study her. She had this sad little frown he had always seen on her, and her eyes stared up into the sky like they were deep in thought. The stars reflected off of her pupils, making it look like her eyes were shining. She looked rather beautiful in the moonlight he realized, and half wondered what was going through that morbid mind her hers. Her brows were furrowed in frustration or anger, and the sorrowful gleam on her face made him wish he could someway make her smile and take back what happened today. He knew how much it was eating at her. For whatever reason, she refused to talk about what had happened earlier today with him. She ignored it and tried dealing with it herself. It was obvious that it was eating away at her though.

"I never really studied Greek Mythology," She suddenly whispered. Beetlejuice, caught off guard by her sudden interaction with him, nearly jumped. He half believed she was talking to the wind before he finally accepted the fact that she knew he was there, probably since the moment he appeared. Weird bird, she was. He stood there staring stupidly for a few seconds. Mythology?

"My mother – my birth mother – used to take me out of the busy city when I was very young. We would look up at the stars, and I would see them all, clearer than ever before, shining down at me. It was so quiet outside of the city, so peaceful. I felt so small compared to the sky… My mother would point out every constellation and tell me their stories. As a child… I was fascinated."

She finally turned to regard him, and Beetlejuice felt his lips tighten. He couldn't utter a word under her stare, and honestly didn't know what to say. Shouldn't she be mad at him? He chose not to say anything, half afraid that if he said anything, she would suddenly remember he abandoned her and tear him a new one.

She pointed to the sky, and Beetlejuice didn't follow her finger right away. Instead, he stared at her eyes, and how they seemed to shine with something other than sadness and bitterness for once. "That one is Cassiopeia, the vain queen, and that one is Perseus, slayer of the gorgon and rider of Pegasus…" She pointed to another one.

Beetlejuice watched in silence as she went about telling the tales of all the constellations she could remember. He didn't know why she was doing this; he knew very well the myths behind the stars, yet he had never heard her speak so much before, and he was fascinated. He was struck by the way her eyes lit up, how her mouth quirked in a not quite smile and how she slowly began to shed the thick protective layers that she always concealed herself in.

"…And that one's Orion; the Hunter who battled with Scorpio. The Gods put them both up into the sky…"

She trailed off here and finally looked at him, the small sparkle in her face slowly fading as she drew back. He didn't want her to, but couldn't bring himself to say a word. She gave him a small smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes and rolled her eyes at herself.

"I don't know why I am bothering, I'm sure you know all of this stuff; you're probably as old as they are."

Hearing her cynical teasing made him smirk, amused at least that she was in the mood to joke around. He sighed and rocked back on his heels. "Yeah well, with age comes experience, and I'll tell ya, I got _plenty_ of that."

She rolled her eyes again. "Do you have to turn everything into a sexual innuendo?"

Beetlejuice gave her his best quirky grin, flashing his yellowed teeth. "Yes," He answered sharply.

"Smart ass," She grumbled and turned back to the sky.

They were quiet for a moment, and Beetlejuice began to fidget. Sticking his hands into his pockets and poking around in them. He honestly didn't give a damn about stars or Mythology or any of the shit. Lydia seemed into it, and he felt obliged to let her enjoy it. He had never seen her so at ease before, and he was loathe to admit he liked seeing her like that. She never opened up to him or spoke more words than necessary to him; only curt answers or short cynical remarks. And he liked that too.

"Sometimes I wish that we could have gotten out more to look at the stars; my mother and I, I mean. They were some of my best childhood memories." Her voice sank somewhat. It was the kind of statement that left an unspoken question in the air, egging someone to ask it, and Beetlejuice asked more out of obligation than actual interest.

"So, uh…What happen'd?"

Lydia sighed and stopped looking into the sky. Her gaze settled on the ground. "She was…sick. She died when I was nine."

The ghost stared at her as he watched her relive some distant memories. He was surprised at the amount of grief and anger that flashed over her vision as she thought. He was going to ask about it when she suddenly perked up, the ice resurfaced over her features and her eyes hardened into stones, as if she suddenly rebuilt the wall she didn't mean to weaken.

"I…have never told anyone that." She admitted, taking a nervous little bite on her lip.

He couldn't read her expressions anymore, damn it. He liked it when she was easy to read, not this unflinching façade that only offered him disdain and morose. Never told anyone what? That her mother died? That she liked watching stars? He seriously doubted the first; it seemed like something hard to avoid.

Beetlejuice huffed and sighed, "No harm done there, Lyds," he muttered, giving her his best smile. "You ever need a shoulder to cry on, you just come to ol' B and I'll take _good _care of ya."

She gave a short little snort that turned into a laugh and he felt a small amount of victory in hearing that ounce of cheer in her voice, proud that he could make her do it.

"Yeah right, sure thing," She huffed and he snorted.

It was an odd moment; they both stared at each other with dumb grins as if what they had just said was some sort of funny joke. He was content with it, oddly happy that he seemed to be gaining her trust somewhat. He needed that.

"And one more thing," She added with the same smirk, it turned a shade darker as she stared him straight in the eyes. "You ever leave me alone again in a shitty place like this to talk to some bimbo, I'll make your afterlife a living hell."

He really couldn't help it. At her comment, he bellowed in laughter. "Well hell, this place really is the pits, ain't it?" He grunted, but didn't drop the smirk on his face. He was relieved that she didn't seem to get as angry with him as most women probably would.

Lydia shook her head. "It's worse than that. This place is a fuckin' pestilence to the land. I can't stand it."

He snickered at her comment and reached for a cigarette, pulling an already lit one from his pockets. "Can't blame a ghost for tryin', huh?"

Lydia gave a small smile and shook her head. "You're unbelievable sometimes." She paused for a long time and he took to concentrating on his smokes.

"Hey, um, B?" She suddenly called him, and for the first time, he took in the fact that she addressed him, and while it wasn't his real name, just an initial, it was a start.

She looked nervous suddenly, staring down at her feet which she shuffled slightly. Then she suddenly looked up, and on her face was the most ball breaking smirk he had ever seen her wear. "You know, you're not as bad as I thought you were."

The cigarette fell from his lips, forgotten on the ground. Did she realize how hot she looked when she stared at him like that? So caught up in her expression, he barely heard the kind-of-compliment she gave him.

He quickly composed himself, and gave his best suave appearance. "Hell yeah," He snorted, "Bout time you realized it. You're lookin' at one hell of a joyride here, babes."

Lydia smiled at him again, and took a daring step towards him. "So what do you say? Can we blow this joint already? My shoe hasn't completely dried and it's cold."

He grinned at her and offered her his arm. She hesitated for a bit, and Beetlejuice wondered if it was still a little too soon for her, but after a little deliberation, she took his arm.

"Anywhere in particular you wanna go doll face? The night's young after all, and I'm just itchin' for some excitement."

Lydia frowned slightly and looked behind her at the bar, where she could still hear the faint party goers inside; the party not even half way over. "Actually, I wouldn't mind going back to my apartment."

Beetlejuice blinked, casting a quick, disbelieving glance at the dark girl on his arm. "Are you kiddin' me?" He stressed, looking incredulously. "You got the number one Ghost here as a personal chauffer to any-fuckin-where and you wanna waste it sittin' at home? Doin' what? Watchin' shit for movies while clipping toenails?"

Lydia gave him a hard look. "I've had a rough day you idiot, and I want some peace if you don't mind." As an afterthought she added, "You don't have to stay anyway, I don't care if you go somewhere with someone more exciting. I'll watch my 'shit for movies' by myself."

Her words quickly hit him and he groaned outwardly. "Well fuck, Lyds," he mumbled, "Ya can't get rid of me that easily."

He didn't like how quick she was to put herself down, and he didn't want to leave her alone as much as she wanted to be. How was she gonna learn to trust him otherwise? A movie, huh? Hey, it was an invitation, wasn't it? And with any luck, she liked to snuggle.

"Ya wanna watch a movie? We'll watch a movie," then quickly added, "But I am _not_ sitting through some sappy chick flick, you got that?"

Lydia rolled her eyes, "You obviously don't know me very well," She muttered, looking half disgusted that he was accusing her of liking such things. He gave her a look that dared her to prove him wrong.

"Oh, please. I watch Cannibal Holocaust just to cheer me up," She stated indignantly when she noticed his disbelieving stare.

He chuckled at that, giving her an amused look. "A'right then, what'cha got in mind?"

She was silent for a moment, and he watched as her eyes rolled heavenward in thought. After a brief time, she looked back at him and she had that devious grin on again, the one that made him want to kiss her as hard as he could and not care about the consequences.

"Ever seen Nekromantik?"

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay. A sick friend has my attention at the moment, and I really have been rather lazy with this story. Hopefully things will start picking up.

Anyway, from this point on, things will be getting a little darker, mainly Lydia's character. She is just now finally realizing that she has a ghost that can get back at all her enemies and Lydia isn't faint at heart. Also, no, I don't support underage drinking, but it is necessary in this story for the plot. You will see as it progresses.

Also, brownie points to anyone who knows what movie Lydia is thinking Beetlejuice might enjoy is all about.


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